


Back Where We Belong

by Letzi



Series: Ride that Wind 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Blood, Body Horror, Dean Winchester/OMC - Freeform, Depression, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Graphic depiction of torture, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Mention of Past Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, drunk/drugged people making slightly bad decisions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 146,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letzi/pseuds/Letzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to infiltrate Alastair’s inner circle,” Gabriel answers, like it’s no big deal, “take Lucifer’s place. Make him think I wanna take over.”<br/>Dean can’t help the laugh bubbling out of his throat. “Oh, is that all? What’s the plan? Going to every party he throws until you meet the guy, then convince him you’re his new BFF?”<br/>The angel’s face is a serious mask, now, as he stares into Dean’s eyes. “Basically, yes.”<br/>“Right,” Dean huffs. “Well, good luck with that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>Sequel to Ride that Wind Back Home</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To The Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> It is time :D So first, if you found this fic at random, I'm sorry to say you'll have to read the first installment to understand this fic. Second, please everyone, read the tags before reading a chapter! I won't put warnings in notes, but I will tag everything appropriately. If you see something that isn't tagged, please let me know! 
> 
> A quick note on the Dom/Sub undertone of the story : this is a Slavery AU. Meaning people have Masters, and are sometimes used by them. A quick piece of advice : do not mix a Slavery AU with BDSM. It's so not a good idea. Then you'll end up with an unhealthy relationship that you'll spend thousands upon thousands of words trying to fix *sighs* I'm not complaining, though. That way I can fix all the mistakes I made in the first installment (which will probably be edited, I don't know when). I'm trying to be as legitimate as possible with everything I write. I do research, but sometimes research is not enough when you haven't experienced what you're writing about, so if there's something wrong, don't hesitate to tell me! 
> 
> On that note, please enjoy! Do not be put off by my tendency to find cheesy titles for my fics!

# CHAPTER 1 : Welcome To The Jungle

 

Freedom is a funny thing, isn’t? It’s not like people even know what it costs, until they’re deprived of it. To Dean, What’s even more beautiful is to witness people who discover it for the first time. He’s standing next to Meg, watching his friends with a little smile on his face.

“Best day of my life,” Charlie chirps.

She jumps around, pulling Gilda with her. Dean laughs watching her, and the others. They’re all in the living room at Gabriel’s mansion. His former slaves, Charlie, Gilda, Lisa, Victor, Ben, Bobby, Mrs. Herbert, Jordan and Jess, and Lucifer’s former slaves, Will, Leo, and Meg, all with their new ID cards, showing them off to each other, looking at the little piece of plastic like it’s the most precious thing on earth.

Lawrence, one of Lucifer’s former slaves, decided to try his hand at freedom as soon as he could. He is now renting a small studio apartment in the lower part of the city, working as a janitor in an old motel, from what Dean knows.

Jess is showing Sam her card, and Sam is whispering something in her ear before she laughs and agrees silently. Will is signing to his brother Leo, to translate what’s written on their cards, as Jordan reads it out loud. The boys can’t read, and Leo is deaf, but Jordan and Ben help them a lot. Jordan took it to heart to teach them how to read and write in no time, so they can go to school.

Meg comes toward Dean, showing off her own card.

“Look at that! I’m a free woman now,” she grins.

Dean looks at the card, and almost chokes on his own saliva when he sees her last name.

“You called yourself Meg Masters?”

She slaps the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“I didn’t call myself anything, that’s my father’s name, moron. I thought it was fitting. ‘Coz I own myself now.” She smiles brighter.

Dean snorts. “A’ight, Miss Masters. Welcome to the world, then.”

She smirks. “Thank you, Mister Winchester.”

She laughs and hugs him. Hugging back, he pats her back.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers in her hair.

He can’t believe they’re all here, alive and well, and free. Two months ago he was still a slave under Lucifer, and he still believed his only fate was a painful death. But Lucifer is dead, now, and everything is going better as the days pass.

Gabriel offered his former slaves to stay if they wished to, giving them the possibility and the means to build houses on his vast property. Dean has to admit it’s nice of him. Even after everything Gabriel did, and everything Dean endured because of him, Dean is starting to feel the hate and anger he felt toward the angel slip away. Revenge wouldn’t lead him anywhere, he knows. So he chose to let go. And it’s working. Sort of.

He said he wouldn’t stay too long, but now that Charlie and Gilda decided to get married, Dean has to be here for the wedding, at least. Their house is almost done, since it was the first they decided to build, and there’s still some stuff to do inside. Dean can’t leave them like that, he knows.

Sam is happy here, too. He and Jess… there’s something there. Dean saw them kiss behind the barn the other day. He would laugh at Sam for how innocent they both looked if it was anybody other than Jess. But he loves her, like a sister, and he’s really happy for the both of them. He doesn’t want to take Sam away from her too soon.

And there’s still the matter of Castiel, who’s Graceless, kinda because of Dean. Or at least Dean feels like it’s his fault. So he wants to help him too, if he can. Michael’s been staying away, ever since they repaired the damage Lucifer’s death did to the house. And even when he’s here, he’s quiet and withdrawn. He’s the one who put a blade through Lucifer’s heart after being under his influence for years. Dean thinks he understands a bit of what the archangel can feel. But he never liked the archangel much, never trusted him, and he trusts him even less now that he knows he could be a potential vessel for him, as Castiel informed him one day. Nobody’s going to wear him, thank you very much. So he stays as far from Michael as he can. Better safe than sorry.

Letting go of Meg, he smiles at her. She looks goofy in her new outfit, the same everybody’s wearing. Gabriel bought them ‘regular’ clothes, meaning a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. It’s not great. Sam and Dean decided to do something about that.

“So now that you’re free, you need some new clothes. And the girls, too. Right, Sammy?”

Sam smiles back, knowingly.

“Yeah, it would be good if you took them shopping.”

“Okay, the day got even better,” Charlie says, eyes wide.

“But we don’t have any money,” Gilda says.

Sam shrugs. “We do. Our treat.”

Jess looks at Sam, eyes shining with glee.

“We’ll give you everything back, I promise!”

“We don’t need you to give us back our money,” Sam answers, smiling down on her, “it’s a gift. That’s what people do when they want to make someone happy.”

Jessica turns to Dean, who nods, then to Lisa, Charlie and Gilda. And she squeals.

“Come on, ladies,” Dean calls, walking out of the room. “And take your IDs with you.”

Meg, Charlie, Gilda and Lisa follow. When he gets to the door, Dean turns around and whistles at Jordan who’s looking at the floor.

“Jordan. You coming or you wanna wear the same dress for the rest of your life?”

Her head snaps up, a big smile illuminating her face. Gabriel offered her a dress last year for her birthday, and she’s been wearing it every day ever since she’s been freed. She knows she can wear whatever she wants, now. 

“Mrs. Herbert, you too if you want to,” Dean says.

She huffs. “I’m too old for this, Dean. I don’t need anything. Go, have fun.”

He smiles at her and gestures for Jordan to come closer.

She runs to Dean, grabbing his hand and only letting go once they’re in Sam’s huge family car. Sam probably stole it a while ago, but they don’t need to know that. Jordan sits in the front, and the girls all climb in the back seats.

“Dean,” Jordan says once he’s inside. “You’re sure I can come?”

Dean starts the car, grimacing at the sound it makes.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You know I’m not a real girl so maybe the people in the stores won’t let me buy girl clothes.”

He thought that’s why she thought she couldn’t come. When he first discovered Jordan was born a boy, he was surprised. But ever since that day, he tries his best to make her feel comfortable in her own skin. She’s almost fourteen, which means she’ll soon hit puberty and he knows it’ll be hard enough when she’ll be popping boners for anything and everything. He can at least make it easier by buying clothes for her.

“Jordan, look at me,” he answers, turning to her until she’s staring into his eyes. “You’re whatever you want to be, okay? And nobody has to know what’s between your legs, nobody’s going to ask you. And if they do, that means they’re assholes, and you don’t have to answer them. You get me?”

She nods, but he sees she’s thinking.

“And if a store doesn’t want you to buy clothes there, we’ll find another one. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” He turns to the others behind him. “Everyone’s ready?”

“Yeah!” The answer comes in a chorus of voices.

“Alright, let’s go!”

 

**______________________________________________________**

 

Meg twirls around in the middle of the living room, her whole new outfit on. She bought lots of things, but this one’s her favorite. A pair of black jeans, a purple top that opens in the back and a black leather jacket.

“Look at me, I’m perfect!”

“I don’t know,” Dean says, smirking, “Jordan looks pretty cool, too.”

Jordan beams, smoothing the edge of her brand new dress. She bought three, but Dean made her buy some pants and shirts, too.

Ben pouts. “What about us?”

“Don’t worry, Buddy, you’ll go with Sam once he comes back from his meeting next week, okay?” Ben nods. “With Will, Leo, Bobby and Victor. If they’re up for it.”

Will signs faster than Dean thought possible and Leo lets out a laugh. So everyone’s happy. Which makes Dean happy in turn. He found out, doing things for himself after everything that happened doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t make him feel better, doesn’t make him feel anything, actually. But doing things for others does. It gives him emotions he thought for a time that he’d never feel again.

And so he gives, and gives, and gives, as much as he can.

The car was too small to take everyone, obviously, and Dean really wanted to do something for Meg, first. But the guys will have their turn too. Not right away, though. Gabriel and Michael have been called to see the Council tomorrow. There’s no telling when it’ll be over, but Gabriel said it shouldn’t take more than a week. Sam is going as their unofficial lawyer, since he’s the one who gathered the most clues about what really happened, and Castiel is going as a witness. The fact that he doesn’t have a Grace anymore is a sort of proof, but it’s not enough. Dean hopes it’s going to go well. Gabriel and Michael will obviously plead guilty for the murder of Lucifer, even if Dean doesn’t know if the Council works like a real tribunal, but if they can’t prove that Lucifer deserved it, then it’ll be over for them. Dean doesn’t know what would happen to them, if it’s the case, but Dean suspects it’s nothing good. That’s why Gabriel freed everyone as fast as he could, Dean thinks. So they wouldn’t be sold to someone else, in case he doesn’t come back.

Lisa looks down at her new jeans, too, running her fingers on the seam for the hundredth time.

“Does Master Gabriel know we bought clothes, though?”

“Gabriel already told you not to call him ‘Master’ anymore,” Gabriel says, entering the room. “And yes, I knew where you all disappeared to, don’t worry. And even if I didn’t, it’s okay because you’re free now. Remember?”

“Sorry, M—Sorry,” Lisa answers. “It’s just hard to get used to it.”

Dean sits down, smiling smugly. “Don’t worry, Lis, it’ll come soon enough.” He eyes Gabriel. “Ain’t that right, Short Stuff?”

Mrs. Herbert gasps.

“Dean,” Sam exclaims.

“What? Y’have somethin’ to say, Samsquatch?”

Gabriel huffs a laugh. “Yeah. You’ll get used to it,” he tells Lisa.

Okay, Dean is doing it on purpose. He knows Gabriel won’t say anything, because he feels guilty as Hell. And Dean is still pissed at him, somewhat. So, yeah, sometimes… he likes to taunt Gabriel, and watch him struggle to ignore Dean or answer like he’s not bothered by it.

Dean can’t wait to see his face when he realizes that Dean ate his favorite desert Mrs. Herbert had put on the side just for him.

“So, anyway,” Gabriel starts again, coming closer to Jordan. “Guess what I’ve just received in the mail, today?”

He holds up his arm and suddenly he’s holding a bunch of papers in his hand. Castiel looks up, interested.

“Adoption papers?”

“Yep,” Gabriel answers, sitting next to Jordan.

He turns a few pages and shows something to her.

“See what’s written there?” Jordan nods, her eyebrows furrowing as she focuses on the words. “That means you’re officially my daughter, now.”

She frowns harder. “It says ‘son’.”

“Uh, yeah… I couldn’t change that right away. We’ll see what we can do about it, okay? One thing at a time.”

She smiles up at him, giving him his papers back, but Dean can see she’s not totally happy with the situation.

Dean gets up from his chair with a grunt, and offers his hand to Meg.

“Alright, if you’ll excuse us, I have to take this lovely lady out.”

Meg takes his hand and squints at him. “What? Why?”

“’Coz I’m inviting you.”

“But, the girls…”

“Don’t worry about us,” Charlie says, a big smile on her face. “We’ll manage.”

Dean smiles at her. “So, you coming?”

Meg still looks suspicious. “Just the two of us?”

“Yeah, like a date,” Jordan exclaims.

And she laughs into her hand. Meg gives Dean an incredulous, questioning look. “What?”

Dean shrugs. “Not what I had in mind, but if you want it to be, okay.”

He can see Gabriel disappearing from his peripheral vision. Meg crosses her arms across her chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never been on a date. What do you usually do?”

“Go eat some place. Go to the movies, or to a bar to have a drink. Whatever you like.”

“Can we do all three?”

“Sure.”

She huffs and shakes her head, smiling. “Okay. Well, lead the way, Mister Winchester.”

Dean doesn’t look at Sam, doesn’t look at Cas. He sees the girls are already whispering to each other. Meg glances toward Gabriel, but when he looks back at her she avoids his eyes. Dean gets that it must seem weird, but he’s not going to feel bad because he wants to spend a night with a girl he actually likes, instead of cramped up here with the guy who got him whipped and beaten up, tortured, and almost killed.

He won’t feel guilty about it, and he won’t try to spare Gabriel’s feeling. The angel doesn’t have ‘feelings’ for Dean, anyway, he just misses Dean’s ass, that’s all. He has no slaves now, so he can’t even take a replacement. But Dean knows he’s paid for prostitutes before, he can do that now if he can’t find a guy in the regular way, like normal people.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Meg suddenly says, pulling on his arm. “Do I need to change? Where are we eating? Do I need to wear something nice? I don’t know if I’m ready to go out Dean, I don’t know anything about what’s out there, I can’t—“

“Hey, calm down,” Dean reassures her, “you look great, and we’re just going to find a burger joint, probably. Did I tell you about this amazing place that sells the best burgers in town?”

She blinks at him. She doesn’t look reassured at all. “Better than yours?”

“Nope. Nothing’s better than the Winchester Special.”

She huffs a small laugh, and looks around, blushing slightly.

“Do you think they’d have burgers with that weird kind of cheese, the one with herbs in it?”

Dean turns to Castiel, who spoke, surprised.

“Uh… I guess.”

“And curly fries?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Can I come with you?”

Dean blinks at him. He wasn’t expecting that. Sam starts laughing.

“What,” Cas asked, defensively. “I have cravings.”

Turning to Meg, Dean raises an eyebrow at her, questioning. She shrugs, but she seems to feel a bit better now. Okay. So, not a date, then.

“Okay, yeah. You can come if you want.”

Cas smiles bright, and Gabriel has the audacity to _smirk_ at Dean. Bastard.

“Don’t drink too much,” he tells Castiel, “you know we have to meet the Council tomorrow.”

Cas nods, waving Gabriel off.

“Alright, let’s go, then,” Dean says. As they cross the threshold, he turns around, holding his hand up and showing a set of keys hanging on to his middle finger. “We’re taking your car, by the way,” he tells Gabriel.

The angel’s about to open his mouth to protest but Dean doesn’t give him time. He exits the room and joins Meg and Cas, who are already discussing what they’re going to eat.

 

**______________________________________________________**  

 

Looking more than uncomfortable, Meg leans over to Dean. “So, how does that work?”

The diner they chose is small and familial. Just right for Meg to discover the world, Dean thinks. He puts the menu in front of her, and opens it.

“You choose something to eat. Waitress comes, you tell her what you want, and that’s it.”

Castiel seems to be used to all of this. He’s staring at his menu, squinting at it as if it holds the most important information in the world.  

“Okay,” is Meg’s only answer.

She takes the menu from his hands and starts reading what’s inside. Dean already knows what he’s going to choose. Good old cheese burger, extra onions, a beer, and a slice of pecan pie. If they do pecan pie. He hopes they do it here. He’ll ask for the dessert menu later.

“Do they really make that many burgers? I’m lost,” Meg says after a while.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Alright, I’ll help you.”

They spend way too long reading through the menu, until both Meg and Castiel are satisfied with their choices. After that, Dean’s so hungry he feels like his stomach is shrinking, trying to eat itself.

He hails the waitress, and smiles apologetically at her when she arrives.

After she brings them their order and they start eating, everything goes better. Meg seems a bit guilty that someone’s bringing her food, even though Dean told her they were paid to serve people, but Cas doesn’t seem to have any problem. He frowns at Meg when she brings up the matter again in the discussion, and he seems to empathize.

This is weird, watching the angel and Meg try to have a conversation. Meg sounds like she’s insulting him constantly, but she looks happy. And Castiel… he doesn’t seem to mind. Looks like the two of them are getting along well, in their own way.

When they’re done with dinner, Dean takes them to a bar. Sadly, it’s too late for the movie they wanted to see, because they took too long choosing what they were going to eat. Meg’s disappointed, but once they get to the bar, she forgets about it.

“That place is awesome,” Meg declares, taking her drink from Dean’s hand.

The bar isn’t really a bar, it’s supposed to be an Irish Pub, but Dean’s pretty sure nobody owning this bar has ever been to Ireland. By the time he fetched their drinks and came back, he heard three U2 songs. In a row. Seriously…

“I’m happy one of us enjoys it, at least…”

“I have to agree with Meg,” Castiel says, “this is really nice.”

Dean sits, handing Cas his fancy cocktail, while Meg sips at her vodka through a straw. She makes a face when the alcohol passes her throat.

“Argh! Wasn’t expecting it to be that strong.” She glares at her glass as if it had personally offended her taste buds.

“Told ya,” Dean sighs.

“Don’t care, I wanna get drunk. I’ve never been drunk before.”

“My drink is great,” Cas comes in. He pushes the glass towards Meg. “Do you want to try it?”

Nodding, Meg takes the drink from him and drinks carefully. Her eyes open up in surprise as she puts the drink down and swallows. “Oh my God! What is it? I want one. Dean, I want one of those!”

Dean rolls his eyes. He feels like he’s taking two kids to the zoo.

After some begging on Meg’s part, Dean finally complies, and stands up to fetch another _Sex on the Beach_ for her. After that, the night passes in a blur. Dean’s pleasantly buzzed by the time they get out to find the car. He’s not wasted, though, he’s been very careful tonight. He hasn’t had a drink in a long while, after all, so he’d rather take things slow.

Meg seems happily drunk. She saunters all the way to the car, and throws herself in the passenger seat. Cas is completely hammered. He probably forgot he was human and tried to drink as much as he did when he was an angel. He had three more cocktails, trying all the fancy names he could find on the drink list, then finished Meg’s vodka, ordered another and ended up stealing some beers from a nearby table. Dean can’t believe he actually saw that happen. It was fun. He should take Cas out more often, he thinks as he starts the car and drives them back to the mansion.

And that’s when they reach the mansion that things get complicated. Cas is so smashed he can’t even walk on his own anymore. Dean helps him get inside, followed by Meg who’s starting to walk funny as well.

“I’ll just…” she says, waving her hand around.

She then disappears through the door to the slaves’ quarters, leaving Dean alone with Castiel.

Sighing, Dean helps him all the way upstairs. Lights are on inside Gabriel’s study, so Dean knocks on the door, and opens it once he hears a faint ‘come in’, from inside. Gabriel looks up, his eyes widening when he sees the state Castiel’s in.

“I’m intoxicated,” Castiel states, squinting at his brother.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “I can see that.”

He stands up, coming closer to them. Castiel is heavy, and Dean’s starting to feel him slide slowly, escaping his grip.

“A little help, please.”

Gabriel catches Castiel as he’s about to fall, helping Dean to carry him to the couch in front of the desk.

“I didn’t… did not drink too much, I swear,” Castiel stammers as they lay him down on the couch. “I don’t know what happened. Must be the alcohol. Maybe it was poisoned.”

He tries to sit up, suddenly alarmed, but he fails miserably.  “What if I’ve been poisoned?!”

“Nobody’s been poisoned, Cas,” Gabriel answers, shaking his head.

Castiel reaches for the archangel, grabbing his arm. “Gabriel. Gaay-bree-ell.”

“Yep, that’s me.”

Castiel pauses, frowning. “If I die I want you to promise me something.”

Dean’s trying not to laugh by now, and he can see Gabriel is smiling too.

“You won’t die. But okay, shoot.”

Cas squints at Gabriel, looking into his eyes, his hand coming up to graze Gabriel’s cheek. He looks deadly serious now. Which is hilarious. “Promise me you’ll stop punishing yourself for what happened to Dean.”

Dean’s throat is suddenly tight. Gabriel’s smile falls.

“Just go to sleep, Cas,” the angel whispers.

“You couldn’t have known wha’ Lucifer would do,” Castiel goes on. “You couldn’t’ve guessed. Even I couldn’t’ve guessed and I… I hated him,” he spits, eyes unfocused. “You know how much I hated him, Gabriel.”

“I know, Cas, shut up, go to sleep.”

Gabriel is desperately trying to push Castiel down, trying to get him to let go, but Cas holds on. “Dean’ll stop being mad, you just have to give him time. He’s just hurting.”

“Heavens, Cas, shut your mouth,” Gabriel says. He turns to Dean, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I think he forgot you were here. He’s just…” he sighs. “He’s drunk off his ass. I’ll… I’ll take care of him, okay?”

Dean nods, but before he can turn around, Castiel opens his mouth again. “I know he loved you once, as much as you love him, just give’im time to—“

Gabriel interrupts, red as a cherry, putting two fingers on Cas’s forehead. Castiel sobers up right away.

“I… am…” Cas starts, looking at them both in turn. His eyes widen as he probably realizes what he just said. “Sorry,” he finishes.

Gabriel doesn’t seem to know where to look. “Dean, don’t listen to what Cas said, he was—“

“’S fine,” Dean cuts him off.

He turns around and flees the room as fast as he can. He needs another drink. He needs to make sure Meg’s okay.

 

**______________________________________________________**  

 

Meg is actually fine. She’s in the kitchen, alternating between drinking a glass of water and looking at it like it’s filled with something disgusting instead.

“Hey.”

She looks up hearing his voice, and a grin appears on her face. “Hey, Deano.”

He tries not to think about what Castiel said, but he can’t keep the words out of his head.

_He loved you once_

Dean never loved anybody. He liked what he and Gabriel had, but that’s it. That’s all it was. He’s never touching another man again, nope. And it’s not as if he wants to, anyway.

Meg raises an eyebrow at him. “Whatcha doin’? Shou’n… shouldn’t you be off to bed?”

_As much as you love him_

Seriously. Gabriel thinks this is love? He doesn’t know shit.

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” he answers, blinking at her. “No, I, uh… I wanted to see if you were okay.”

She snorts, dipping her glass and dropping a bit of water on the floor. She giggles when she sees what she just did. He laughs quietly too, taking a few steps toward her.

“M’ fine.”

“Yeah, you look like you’re fine,” he laughs, stepping forward until he can take the glass from her and put it on the counter behind her.

She’s here, she’s close. She’s the only one that can touch him without making him jumpy. And Dean thinks, maybe he could fall in love with her, if he wanted to. She gave him so much more than Gabriel. She’s always been here for him. And she’s hot, even hotter now that she’s looking up through her eyelashes, pouting slightly as she waits for him to say something else. And he owes her. His life, his sanity. A hand job. Yes, he does owe her a hand job. A nice orgasm. She’ll like that. And making her happy will make Dean happy. Somehow, to his slightly drunk brain, it makes sense.

He leans forward, his lips landing on hers as gently as possible. She gets into it right away, her tongue pushing against his mouth. She chuckles in the kiss, and he finds himself smiling too as he opens his mouth and lets her tongue caress his own. He feels one of her hands in the back of his head, stroking his hair, and he sighs in her mouth.

Her other hand slowly slides down his body, all the way to his dick. His desperately soft dick.

“Dean,” she tries, unsure of herself all of a sudden.

He cuts her off. “It’s okay,” he breathes, “I can get you off, I don’t mind.”

He keeps kissing her, nibbling at her lower lip, hiding his face in her neck and sucking a bruise there.

“Are you sure you wanna—“

“Yes, Meg, yes. I’m fine. Don’t think about it.”

His kisses turn frantic, pleading, and Meg starts to try and wriggle away from him. “Dean, stop.”

She sounds scared. It’s just because she doesn’t wanna hurt him, he thinks. He wants to show her it’s okay.

“I’m fine, I swear.”

“Dean! I said stop!” She pushes him away, hurt and confused. And he regrets what he just did a second too late.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Meg,” he stammers as he feels tears filling his eyes. “I didn’t mean… shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Hey, hey,” she croaks. He can see her eyes are shining. She reaches toward him, pulling him close again. “It’s okay. It’s just… we’re drunk, okay. That’s all it is. Just breathe, Dean.”

She still a bit scared, he can see it and it makes his heart ache, but he lets himself be comforted by her words.

“It’s okay, I get it,” she kisses his forehead, “we’re fine, Dean. It’s fine.”

“Sorry…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

She rests her hands on his shoulder, her finger stroking the back of his neck reassuringly. She kisses him, right on the mouth. The kiss is chaste, light, just a little something to make him understand there’s no harm done. He sighs, ready to apologize again, when he hears footsteps behind them. He doesn’t turn around. He knows who it is the second he sees Meg tense.

“I… sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Gabriel says. “I... nevermind.”

Anger surges inside of Dean, and he bows his head, trying to rein himself. He turns around. “What?”

He can’t help his aggressive tone. He’s sad and tired and drunk and the last thing he needs right now is to have a heart to heart with Gabriel. The archangel looks flustered, and uncomfortable. _Good_ , Dean thinks.

“I just… wanted to apologized, on Cas’s behalf.”

Letting go of Meg, Dean raises his eyebrow at him. “It couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

“I… I didn’t know you… you…”

“Okay, thanks. Tell Cas we’re cool,” Dean interrupts, angry, suddenly.

This night isn’t ending like he thought it would. He needs to go home. Or, the place he calls home these days. A small apartment he’s renting on the outskirt of the city, not too far away from the mansion. He wants to be alone.

Sighing, he turns to Meg. “’Gonna head home, okay?” He plants a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Meg nods, seemingly at loss for words. She gives him a small smile before he turns around. Gabriel is still here, lingering awkwardly in the doorway. Dean doesn’t look at him. He walks by him, ignoring the way the archangel keeps his gaze on him.

 

**______________________________________________________**  

 

Dean never got the chance to say goodbye to Sam. The next day, when he got to the mansion, slightly hung-over and a bit shameful, Gabriel, Castiel, Michael and Sam were already gone.

They all wait for exactly five days. In the meantime, they work on Gilda and Charlie’s house, painting the walls, installing the furniture, buying some linens and drapes and anything the girls could want to make the place their own.

Dean can’t stop the anxiety he feels growing inside him. He doesn’t know what the Council will decide. Technically, the Council being composed of all the archangels in the world, you’d think they’d all get an equal vote on anything that’s brought before them. But somehow it’s not the case, because some archangels are more powerful than others. So those assholes get to have a special extra vote. Or rather, they’re like judges, and all the others angels are more like prosecutors or lawyers. Some plead for the case, others against it, and the Big Winged Ones get to choose who they believe the most.

When Gabriel explained it to him and Sam, it didn’t seem very fair to Dean. But Sam just nodded, thoughtful, as if it made sense. Dean doesn’t know how everything works, in the end, the only thing he knows is if the Big Kahunas decide Gabriel and Michael fucked up, then there’s nothing Sam or Cas will be able to do about it. And it stresses Dean out.

It’s all about the other slaves, Dean thinks. Well, former slaves. His friends. What are they going to do if Gabriel never comes back? Dean and Sam can help, but they’re not loaded, and they don’t know a lot of people in this part of the country. There’s no way they can help everyone. Dean doesn’t want anything bad to happen to them.

So when Castiel, Gabriel and Sam finally reappear, Dean can’t help but simultaneously feel relieved and even more anxious, if that’s even possible.

Jessica and Meg are already with them, Mrs. Herbert is walking toward them, and Dean runs, almost making her fall in the process.

“Watch out, Boy,” she admonishes.

He doesn’t answer, only throwing her an apologetic look, and goes to his brother instead.

“What happened?”

Sam looks more than exhausted, and Gabriel is avoiding people’s eyes. Nothing about it looks good. Castiel is his usual, constipated self, except he looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the spot.

Sam sighs. “They… they kept Michael.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’re keeping him on lock down until we can prove that Lucifer was up to something.”

Dean blinks at his brother. “How are we supposed to do that? The guy’s dead!”

“I could testify,” Meg says, looking between Gabriel and Dean.

“I don’t think it’ll work… they want hard proof,” Sam answers. “We have to… look into it, I guess.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Dean frowns. “So, what do we do?”

Gabriel sighs, finally getting out of his trance, it seems. “Sam, Cas, go to sleep. I need to go see some friends, see what we can do.”

“I’m coming with you,” Dean announces, uncrossing his arms.

The archangel doesn’t even look at him. “No.”

“What? You scared I’ll embarrass you?”

“I don’t need your assistance.”

“Come on, don’t be a dick.”

Gabriel stops, turning to Dean so fast he almost jumps. The angel looks angry and tired, and Dean feels the familiar fear of punishment looming over him. He knows Gabriel wouldn’t do anything, now. Dean’s free. The archangel can’t do anything against him. He knows that. But somehow, fear overcomes his reason, and his body slumps down, trying to make him as small as he can. He tries to fight it.

“Oh, so now I’m the dick,” Gabriel spits, taking a step toward him.

Dean tries to steady his voice. He can’t let the fear show. “I didn’t mean it like… that. Just, tell me what I can do. I’m a hunter, remember? Finding shit on bad guys is my thing.”

And he’s tired of hanging around here all day, painting walls instead of doing what he knows best. He wants to hunt. He needs it.

Gabriel laughs, bitter, and it makes Dean even twitchier than before. Sam and Castiel are eyeing them both as if they’re two bombs waiting to explode.

“Just do what you do best,” Gabriel answers, the crazy smile still on his lips, “go brooding in a corner like you usually do. I’m sure you’ll find something to accuse me of again.”

Dean frowns. “I get it, you’re pissed. There’s no need to be insulting.” Gabriel doesn’t answer, just shakes his head, so Dean takes a step closer, trying not to get angry, “what’s up with you today?”

 “What’s up with _me_? Really…” the angel snorts. “You’re the one who’s been nothing but annoying and condescending for the last two months, and now I’m the one who has a problem? That’s rich. Thanks, Dean, but I don’t need your help.” ~~~~

 “Okay,” Sam starts, “everyone’s tired, let’s not say things we might regret tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dean interrupts. He’s hallucinating. Gabriel can absolutely not be saying what he’s saying. “I didn’t know there was an expiration date on my being pissed at you for _torturing_ me and giving me away to your psycho brother!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. He fucking rolls his eyes. “I already told you I was sorry!”

 “And so, what,” Dean scoffs, “I should forgive you because you said you were sorry? Oh, my bad, oh Mighty Gabriel. You’re sorry. You healed the scars from my back so now we can pretend it never happened!”

“I don’t have time for this, Dean, I’m tired,” Gabriel just answers, turning his back on him.

“Yeah, well, tough shit,” Dean snears. “I want to put that whole thing behind me as much as you do, so I’m gonna keep being pissed, and I’m gonna come with you, because I can’t just stay here and—“

“I said NO!”

“Hey,” Sam exclaims, looking at Gabriel he’s ready to kill him.

But the archangel doesn’t move, he keeps his gaze locked on Dean, and Dean feels paralyzed. There’s no mistaking the impulse of Grace Dean felt and heard in Gabriel’s voice. He tries to resist it, but the fear is stronger, somehow, and he looks down in submission.

He can’t believe Gabriel just used his Grace on him.

“Gabriel…” Castiel tries.                       

But Dean hears footsteps going away, and he keeps staring at the floor because he can’t make himself move.

“Hey,” Sam booms, anger evident in his voice, “where d’you think you’re going?!”

There’s no answer coming from Gabriel, only a rustling noise, and Sam huffing.

“Sam,” Castiel says, “Sam, let him go. It’s been a long week. Let him go.”

“Like hell I’m letting him go, did you see what he did to—“ Sam stops. “Dean? Dean!”

And now there’s panic in his voice and suddenly he’s very close to Dean, both hands on his brother’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean says weakly, blinking as he looks up.

Gabriel is gone.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

He shrugs Sam’s hands away and leaves. He needs some time alone.

 

**______________________________________________________**  

 

Having his own place makes Dean feel better. Or at least, it makes him feel as good as he can be, in his situation. He still has nightmares, almost every night. He doesn’t drink to make them go away, though. He thought about it, of course, he tried getting hammered a few times, but it didn’t help. He still feels this great nothingness inside himself, this gaping hole in his chest, no matter what he does. And the nightmares are actually worse when he drinks.

Having the apartment to himself more often than not helps. He’s supposed to be sharing with Sam, but Sam stays at Gabriel’s more often than not. Jess is there, after all. And Dean gets it. His brother want to spend time with the woman he likes. Loves. Likes. Dean isn’t sure which is true. Sam will never admit he’s fallen in love so soon after meeting Jess, but Dean hasn’t seen him look this happy in a very long while. So he guesses it must be love. The beginning of it, at least.

So, yeah, his place is nice, it’s not much, but it’s his. But somehow, now it’s starting to feel like a cage. He’s been staying locked up inside, not answering anyone’s phone calls for three days, now.

His phone rings again, and he’s so desperate to get out, to see people, that he finally checks who’s calling him, taking the phone from the small coffee table in front of his couch-slash-bed. It’s Sam.

Sighing, he sits up properly, letting his legs fall on the side of the bed until his feet touch the floor. He huffs as he takes the call.

“What?”

“ _Are you done?”_

“Done doing what?”

“ _Dean,_ ” Sam sounds really pissed off. Dean can’t really blame him for that. “ _You can’t keep on hiding every time something happens to you!_ ”

Dean only snorts.

“ _I’m not kidding. It’s bad for you, and it sure doesn’t help you_.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mom. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m fine.”

There’s a sigh at the other end of the line, and some rustling.

“ _I don’t wanna fight again…_ ” Sam says, his voice barely a whisper. “ _Gilda and Charlie are all moved in, and they want to invite us to dinner. And…_ ” he hesitates.

This isn’t good. It has something to do with a certain archangel Dean doesn’t want to see, he’s sure.

“What, Sammy?”

“ _We think we found a way to find proof of Lucifer’s guilt. Or Gabriel did. One of his guy is coming tonight so we can talk about it. Gabriel doesn’t want to tell us what he learned until we’re all here_.”

Dean tries to digest the information. If Gabriel really found something, then it means bringing actual proof to the Council, and getting rid of Lucifer’s ghost once and for all. He’s all for that. And he really needs something to do. He needs to chase something, someone, feel the thrill of a good hunt again for the first time in a long while.

There’s also Charlie and Gilda’s dinner to consider.

“ _Dean?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah…” he runs a hand through his hair, looking around in the hope he’ll find something clean to wear without having to wash any clothes in his shallow bathtub. “Alright, I’ll be there. For the girls. And we’ll see about the rest,” he lies.

He doesn’t want his brother to know the need to kill something is almost overwhelming these days. He’s just so angry all the time. Every time he thinks about Gabriel, or hears about him, actually.

There’s a smile in Sam’s voice when he talks again.

“ _Great! See you tonight, then. Be there at six, okay?_ ”

“Sure.”

He hangs up, falling backward on the bed. He has a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

 

**______________________________________________________**  

 

The dinner part is actually pretty nice. Meg is a bit moody at first, but she forgives Dean for being a douche after a while, and everything goes well after that. Everyone’s happy to see him, relieved he’s okay. Gabriel isn’t here, thank goodness.

And then it’s that cliché time of the night, where all the men step into their host’s study and smoke cigars. Except here there’s no cigar, and, technically, Gabriel wasn’t the host tonight, but Dean, Sam and Castiel join him in the mansion, nonetheless.

Dean avoids looking at him as much as he can as they enter his study, and Gabriel seems to do the same. Good.

“So, where’s your guy,” Sam asks, sitting heavily on the couch in the middle of the room.

Dean stays up, while Castiel sits next to Sam.

“He’ll be here soon,” Gabriel answers as his eyes find Dean for a second. “I should tell you what I found out while we wait for him.”

“Yes, that would be great,” Castiel deadpans.

Gabriel throws him an annoyed look.

“I’ve been trying to find something to link the demon Alastair to Lucifer. I think I found something, but I can’t be sure.” He sighs. “Pretty much everybody knows he’s up to something, but nobody’s ever been able to prove it. And I guess finding proof my brother was working with him will be almost impossible but… I think that’s our only chance to make the Council see Lucifer was… at fault. For what happened to him.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, finally looking his way.

“That’s it? Take on Alastair, that’s your plan?”

“Yes.”

“You’re crazy.”

“It’s the only way to—“

Gabriel’s interrupted when someone knocks at the door. It’s Mrs. Herbert who opens the door, her head peeking through the opening.

“There’s someone here to see you.”

Gabriel looks confused at first, then annoyed. He clicks his tongue.

“How many times will I have to tell you, you don’t need to do that anymore?”

“You also said we could keep doing our work and you’d pay us for it,” she replies, drily.

The angel huffs a laugh. “Yeah, I did. We really have to make you sign something.”

She waves his offer away. “As long as I have a roof over my head and something to eat, I’m good. Now, are we going to discuss my work all night or can I introduce the boy who came to see you?”

Sam gives Dean an incredulous look, but Dean just shrugs. Mrs. Herbert is even more snarky now that she’s free. He knows she doesn’t necessarily like it. She just makes do with the situation.

Dean barely notices the guy when he steps in and Mrs. Herbert steps out, too focused on not looking at Gabriel. He quickly glances the guy’s way, and then he has to double-take because it can’t be possible.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a bit late,” the guy says, all sandy blond hair and bright smile, “hey, Dean! It’s been a while!”

But it is. Dean can feel his body trying to rush all his blood into his face. He manages to prevent it from happening, and he tries to smile, but he’s so uncomfortable he’s pretty sure it probably looks like he’s having a stroke.

“Hey,” he answers, looking anywhere but at Sam or Gabriel.

Sam gives him a confused look. Gabriel stands up.

“Everyone, this is Gregory,” the angel announces.

It’s a joke. A huge cosmic joke. It’s the universe getting back at him for something. Gabriel bringing the same Gregory Dean watched get fucked by the archangel months ago. Seriously, why do they need a gigolo? Are they going to try and sex Alastair to death?

Gregory steps toward them, nodding to Cas and shaking Sam’s hand. Looking between Dean and Gregory, Sam smiles, his nice-for-strangers smile, still looking a bit confused.

“You know each other?”

“Yes, we’ve met,” Gregory answers at the same time Dean blurts out, “I’m not allowed to know people you don’t?”

Clearing his throat, Gabriel smiles at Sam, then at Gregory. “Gregory, this is Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother.”

Gregory’s smile widens. “You sure have some good genes in your family.”

Dean can’t take it anymore. Crossing his arms across his chest, he turns to Gabriel. “Let’s get down to business, okay?”

“How did you two meet?” Sam asks, almost at the same time.

A corner of Gregory’s mouth lifts, slowly, as he looks between Dean and Sam.

“It’s a very long story I’m not sure we have time for, right now.”

Sam blinks. “Right. Right, sorry.”

“So,” Gabriel interrupts, “do you have it?”

Smiling brightly again, Gregory turns to the archangel, taking what looks like a ticket out of his pants pocket.

“It was hard to come by, especially because it was for you. They don’t trust you, you know.” He hands Gabriel the ticket. The angel looks at it, thoughtfully.

“I know,” Gabriel nods as he studies the small piece of paper, “it’s going to be hard to reach Alastair, isn’t it?”

Gregory nods.

“There’s something else, too. The party is very exclusive. You need to bring a slave. Like, you know…” he looks pointedly at Dean, then back at Gabriel, “ _that_ kind of slave. Or else you won’t be able to get passed the door.”

“This is going to be be a problem…”

Dean watches the exchange with a frown on his face. It doesn’t explain what Gregory is doing here, and it certainly doesn’t look like Gabriel is going anywhere with this little plan of his.

He huffs, impatient. “Care to explain what’s happening?”

“I want to infiltrate Alastair’s inner circle,” Gabriel answers, like it’s no big deal, “take Lucifer’s place. Make him think I wanna take over.”

Dean can’t help the laugh bubbling out of his throat. “Oh, is that all? What’s the plan? Going to every party he throws until you meet the guy, then convince him you’re his new BFF?”

The angel’s face is a serious mask, now, as he stares into Dean’s eyes. “Basically, yes.”

“Right,” Dean huffs. “Well, good luck with that.”

He can’t believe Gabriel is going to try and do just what he said. His plan is doomed, from the start. Alastair must have heard what happened. Everybody heard what happened. Maybe the demons don’t know why Gabriel and Lucifer fought, but everybody knows how things went down. Dean is not going to be a part of a stupid plan.

“I have to agree with Dean,” Castiel says, looking up. “This plan of yours is reckless. Where are you going to find a slave for this? Everybody knows your taste, you can’t take one of the girls with you, Victor and Bobby are too old for you, and I don’t think the girls will let you take either Ben, Will or Leo.”

Gabriel shifts his weight, and Dean has an inkling he’s trying to hide something. He looks like he just thought about something, but isn’t sure it’ll be approved by everyone. Dean looks away from him.  

“I’ll find someone. It’s the only way to get Michael out, Cas.”

“He’s right,” Sam breathes.

He’s looking at the floor, hands in his lap, thoughtful. He looks so calm, Dean knows it’s never a good sign.

“Think about it,” Sam goes on, “Lucifer’s been very careful. There’s no way we’ll find something in his house. What he did there…” he quickly glances up at Dean, then back at the floor, “it was wrong, by our standards, but it was acceptable for the Council. If we can prove he associated with demons, though… then that’s it. That’s the one thing angels aren’t allowed to do without the Council’s approval, am I right?”

He gives Gabriel a questioning look, and the angel nods.

“If we prove they’re both linked, and if we prove Alastair was the one killing the angels for him, Michael’s free. It’s simple, Dean. It’s the only shot we got.”

Huffing, Dean looks away briefly, incredulous. It’s like the whole world is against him. If Sam’s in, then he has to be, too. He has to help Gabriel, and it’s the last thing he wants to do. He wants to hunt, yes, but he doesn’t want _this_.

“That’s all good and neat, Sam, but you forgot that there’s no slave in this house anymore.” He turns to Gabriel. “What are you gonna do, huh? Go buy another one just so you can pull off your little stunt?”

Gabriel looks down.

“He won’t have to,” Sam answers, “I’ll do it.”

A heavy silence follows his statement. Gabriel blinks at him, Castiel gives him a shocked look, while Gregory just raises an eyebrow at all of them. Dean feels like his heart just sank into his stomach.

“No.”

“Come on, Dean, I can do it. And they don’t know me, it’ll be easier for Gabriel to make them think he—“

“I SAID NO!!”

The roar echoes in Dean’s ears, surprising him a little. He didn’t think he could still react that strongly to something. His heart is beating frantically inside his chest, and he feels nausea rise up inside his throat at the idea of his brother submitting to Gabriel, even if it’s not real.

He realizes there’s only one solution that would make this alright. He doesn’t want to let the thought bloom, though. He can’t. He needs to stop them.

Sam stands up. “Listen, Dean, I get it, it’s hard for you, but I know what I’m doing, okay? And I trust Gabriel.”

Anger bubbles up Dean’s chest, and he takes a step forward, right into his brother’s space. He needs to show him. Sam just doesn’t know what it’s like.

“Kneel.”

Sam blinks. “What?”

Dean knees him in the thigh, and Sam yelps.

“Ow! Dean! What the—“

Dean pushes him down until he’s on his knees.

“Dean, stop.”

It’s Gabriel’s voice. Calm, authoritative. Dean ignores him. Sam looks up, confused, and a bit hurt.

“I get it, Dean, no need to be—“

But Dean interrupts, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head back.

“Ah! Dean!”

“Right, you get it,” Dean whispers, bending down so he can talk directly into his brother’s ear. “How does that feel, huh? You want to know what it was like for me so we can share a moment, talk about our feelings and get me all better, is that it?”

He lets go of Sam’s hair, straightening up.

“Alright, then.” He gives Gabriel a mocking, curious look. “You wanna see if you can trade one brother for the other, huh? Let’s see if Sammy can learn better than me.” Sam looks angry but determined, he raises his chin when Dean looks at him again. “Hands behind your back, part your thighs.” He nudges his foot between his brother’s legs, spreading them further, feeling sick at himself for what he’s doing. But it’s for Sam’s good, he tells himself. He needs to understand. “Spread them, Sammy, you wanna let your Master see all of you.”

He sees a blush appear on Sam’s face, but Sam doesn’t look away from him as he reluctantly does what he’s told.

“Dean.”

Gabriel again. But he wants it, doesn’t he? He wants to take Sam with him. He’ll probably try something, Dean knows him. Playing nice and all, until Sam can’t say no to him. He won’t allow it.

“Stand straighter. Straighter than that, Sam.” He kicks at Sam’s lower back, not too hard, but enough that Sam let’s out a breath. “Come on, now look down. You don’t wanna look people in the eyes. Nobody cares about your eyes, Sam, because you’re a toy, do you get it?”

As he speaks he pushes Sam’s head down, a hand on the back of it, his foot pushing against the small of Sam’s back to keep him straight. He knows he’s hurting Sam, but better hurt him a little now than let him go out there to pretend he’s a slave. He can’t do it. Dean knows he can’t. And so he pushes harder, until Sam cries out.

“Dean, that’s enough,” Castiel exclaims, standing up.

Sam crawls away from him, looking mighty pissed. “I get it, Dean! Jeez!”

Straightening up again, Dean blinks, taking a step back from his brother. He runs a hand over his mouth, trying not to show his guilt. It’s for Sammy’s own good, he keeps repeating himself. It’s for his own good.

“No you don’t, Sammy, that’s the whole point…”

“I’m feeling really uncomfortable,” Gregory says, matter-of-factly.

Dean ignores him. He can’t look at anyone, right now, but he had to prove a point. Gabriel snorts, unhappy.

“So what now?”

“You know what,” Dean answers. “Don’t act like you didn’t think about it. You let Sam volunteer so I’d have no choice!”

Sam starts. “Dean, you’re not thinking of doing it, are you?”

“Of course I am!” He can’t contain his anger. That’s what Gabriel’s been getting at. He gestures toward the angel. “He’s been thinking about it, too, he’s just too chicken shit to ask!”

Gabriel has the decency to look ashamed.  “You’re the only logical choice, I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No! No way,” Sam says, taking a step toward the angel.

“He’s right, Sam,” Castiel tells him. “Dean has… a reputation. If he’s the one pretending to be a slave then the demons will think Gabriel just took him back from Lucifer, and it would give a good enough explanation as to why he helped kill him. It would be easier for him to gain the demons’ trust if he can show Dean off, no offense Dean.” Dean shrugs. “There are already rumors saying Gabriel freed his slaves,” Cas continues. “If he brings Dean with him, and if we tell the others to stop going out for a while, then we have a chance to pass as some wannabe criminals.”

Sam gives them all a desperate look and turns to Dean.

“We’ll find someone else. Gabriel can train me. I don’t care,” he tries.

“The private party Gabriel’s going to is tomorrow night,” Gregory says.

Dean sighs, and he closes his eyes for a second before he looks at Gabriel.  “I’ll do it, but you won’t touch me and I won’t touch you. In fact, you know what? I won’t touch anybody and you won’t let anybody touch me, are we clear?”

Gabriel nods. “Thank you, Dean.”

“And I’m not putting on a show, I’m not shoving anything inside of me for those assholes. I’ll just be there and be pretty, and that’s it.”

“Alright.”

“Dean…” Sam pleads.

“And it’s just for one night, right?”

Gabriel nods at Dean again. He looks relieved, and maybe a little bit sad. Dean tries not to give a shit.

“I just need to be trusted to be introduced to Alastair,” he answers.

There’s a moment of silence, in which Dean is pretty sure everyone is taking in the enormity of what they’re trying to do. It feels useless to him. Useless, dangerous. Deadly.

“Perfect, then,” Gregory finally says when nobody speaks.

Another thing Dean forgot about. He raises an eyebrow at him, more than annoyed now. He feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He wants to get out. Go back home.

“You’re coming?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because I work there and you can only get in with a sponsor from the club, whether it’s an employee or a regular.”

Seriously? This night is getting more and more surprising.

“You work there.”

Gregory nods at him.

“Why? I thought your… uh, other activity paid well.”

Laughing, Gregory crosses his arms across his chest.

“I’m actually trying to get a doctorate in engineering physics, those things cost money.”

Dean feels both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he almost feels the urge to whistle. “Wow. Okay.”

“Yeah, I’m not just a nice piece of ass.” Turning to Gabriel, he bows slightly. “I need to go, but like we said, we meet up front of the club. I’ll be waiting for you.”

He smiles at Dean, looking more than uncomfortable by now, before he leaves. The second the door closes behind him, Sam turns to Dean again.

“You can’t do it, Dean.”

“Yeah, I can. I will,” Dean lets out in a breath. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to discuss this any further. “Let it go, Sammy. It’s just one evening. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll get you your old clothes,” Gabriel tells Dean, ignoring Sam.

Castiel puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder, but Sam shrugs him off and stomps out. Giving both Dean and Gabriel an apologetic look, Cas follows him.

“Dean, I will never thank you enough for—“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Dean sees Gabriel take a step closer, trying to catch his eyes, but Dean can’t. He can’t look at him. He pretends there’s something interesting on one of the shelves full of books on the wall instead.

“Alright…” Gabriel whispers.

“What time should I be here, tomorrow?”

“Six should be okay.”

“Okay. I’ll just… I need to be alone, okay? I need to think about it.”

He walks to the door, and barely notices when Gabriel nods.

 

**______________________________________________________**  

 

The next day passes in a blur, for Dean. He wakes up late, takes his time to prepare himself. The truth is, he had trouble sleeping. He feels barely awake, all day long, trying to go through his routine. He’s not sure he’s really scared. He’s not even sure he’s feeling anything about what’s going to happen later. He’s just… okay, with it, he guesses. It’s hard to feel anything, really, because his life as a slave seems like it was so long ago, like somebody else lived it in his place. And at the same time, it feels like yesterday he was still at Lucifer’s. And so it’s like he forgot everything, and like it never truly ended at the same time.

Once he’s standing in one of the guest rooms though, the one Sam uses with Jess when he stays here, the reality of the situation suddenly hits him, and he finds himself paralyzed, looking down at his old slaves clothes on the bed, unable to move for a minute or two.

It’s only when Sam knocks at the door that he snaps out of it.

“Dean?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, coming! Gimme a minute!”

He gives another nervous look at the slave clothes, a plain, white, long-sleeve shirt, with a few buttons on the top, and a pair of brownish pants. He forgot how ugly they look. But they’re comfy, he remembers. He knows that’s why Gabriel chose them. They’re easy to wear, not too light in the winter, not too heavy in the summer. Sighing, he removes his own button-down shirt, his t-shirt, and his pants.

Actually it’s starting to feel as if the second he puts on the uniform, he’ll be trapped forever. He takes a big breath. Holds it in. Then lets it out. Right. _Come on, Winchester_.

It takes a few seconds to put the clothes on. Once it’s done, he doesn’t feel different. But he doesn’t feel the same, either. He can do this, he knows he can. It’s just one night. One night, and then he can go back to being a hunter.

He’ll leave, he decides. If Sam wants to stay with Jess, or help Gabriel even, then it’s his problem. Dean needs some time alone, and he needs to hunt. Easy things, vampires, ghosts. An easy salt and burn job would probably do him some good.

The decision made, he feels lighter.

Exiting the room is easier.

Just a few hours to bear, he tells himself. Just a few hours and everything will be over.


	2. People Are Strange

# CHAPTER 2 : People Are Strange

 

Gabriel eyes Dean from the other side of the car. Dean can’t help glancing around, nervous. The car has a chauffeur, and it’s a bit disappointing. He likes to drive. It helps when he’s nervous.

“You okay?”

Dean jumps hearing the angel’s voice. “No,” he answers.

“Do you want a drink?”

He shakes his head. “Not a good idea.”

“Right, sorry.”

Glancing outside the car window again, Dean sighs. He’s shaking, and he hates it. He hates how his body betrays him, reveals everything that happened to him, reminds him how low he fell just a few months ago. Abruptly, he turns to Gabriel.  “You won’t let them touch me.”

Raising his eyebrows, the angel looks up. “Of course not.”

There’s a bit of pity in his voice, it seems. Dean hates it.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if they touch me…” Dean whispers.

“It won’t happen.”

“And if you… if you really have to touch me… just… don’t startle me, alright?”

“Okay.”

Dean looks away again. He needs to calm down, take a few breaths.

“I’ll be with you at all times, everything’s gonna be fine, Dean.”

“Right,” Dean answers, his stomach forming knots as they enter the upper part of the city, “I know.”

He doesn’t let another word out after that. He needs to get into the mood, and he needs to stop overthinking it. He’s gonna be fine. It’s just a few hours. Just a few hours in Hell again, for a lifetime of peace.

 

**_________________________________________________**

 

It’s easier to get into the role when they reach the club. So many people here expect him to be quiet, obedient. And so he looks at the floor and follows Gabriel. Gregory is here, as promised. He doesn’t look at Dean, doesn’t even say hello, just bows to Gabriel in front of the bouncer, and leads them inside. Dean sees other slaves there, close to their Master or Mistress. It’s a rare sight, for him. He doesn’t do clubs, usually, but even when he goes out, the bars he goes to never have slaves. Or people important enough to have slaves. It’s a weird sight. He tries not to stare too much as they walk to the other end of the bar, passing all the patrons until they reach a small door hidden behind a red curtain and guarded by the biggest guy Dean’s ever seen. He’s glad the music is so loud, because there are things he sees, in the corner of his eyes, things some people are doing to their slaves. He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to hear.

If the atmosphere was oppressive in the main room of the club, what’s behind the door is even worse. Everything is lit up with red lights, making it hard to see a few feet in front of them. The room isn’t small, by any standards, but red curtains are hanging from the ceiling, dividing it in small compartments. Each compartment contains black tables, black chairs. There are people in most of them. Demons, mostly, Dean thinks. Or at least they look like demons.

And, God, the music is even worse in here.

Gregory leads them to an empty table, bowing slightly toward Gabriel as the angel sits. Dean kneels next to his chair, hands on his thighs. He doesn’t think it’s necessary to put his hands behind his back, for now. Maybe later, if they have visitors. He keeps his eyes down, making a good show of obedience.

“I can’t help you now. I need to leave,” Gregory whispers, loud enough that Dean can hear his voice above the music. “I don’t know what happens in this room, usually. Good luck.” He straightens up.  “I hope you’ll have a pleasant evening, Your Grace,” he says, louder this time.

And he leaves.

Dean’s heart is beating like crazy inside his chest again, but being down on the floor helps a little. Here, nobody’s going to bother him, for now. He tries to empty his mind, to be able to focus on what’s happening around him, but Gabriel’s foot is tapping continuously against the floor next to him, making him even more nervous than he already is. As discreetly as he can, he elbows Gabriel in the shin, looking up. Gabriel stops moving, blinking at him.

“Sorry,” he mouths.

Taking a breath, Dean looks around. There are two exits. One in the back of the room, the emergency one, and the door they came through. If something happens, there’s a way out, at least. Most people seem at ease, some are sharing tables, their slaves kneeling or standing next to them, or even sitting in their laps. Everybody seems excited. Dean wonders what’s going to happen that has a bunch of demonic assholes so worked up.

Dean feels Gabriel tense behind him, a few seconds before a pair of feet appear in Dean’s field of vision. A woman. In a pantsuit. _Great_ , Dean thinks. Looks like fun.

“Gabriel,” the woman says.

She sounds arrogant. Dean immediately dislikes her.

“Naomi,” Gabriel answers, “what a surprise…”

The sound of the angel’s voice makes Dean uncomfortable. Gabriel seems more than tense, now, and he sounds… almost scared.

“I could say the same thing… may I sit?”

“Sure.”

She bumps Dean’s thigh with the chair as she takes a seat, and she makes a very enthusiastic, very fake noise of surprise.

“Heavens, Gabriel! Is that…”

Dean feels her hand coming close to his face a second before Gabriel pulls his head back by his hair. She withdraws her hand.

“It is,” Gabriel answers, cold.

Well, now at least Dean can see her face. He’s very careful not to look her in the eyes, though. She looks to be around her mid-forties, hair tied in a very neat bun. Behind her, standing straight, holding a perfect Stance is a young girl. Barely legal, if even, Dean thinks. Her slave, probably.

“You know I’m still mad at you for buying him before I could get the chance,” Naomi chuckles. “I thought Lucifer owned him now?”

Letting go of Dean’s hair, Gabriel lets his hand slide on Dean’s neck and keeps his hand on his shoulder.

“He took him from me. I took him back. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Oh, yes. Who hasn’t? How was the trial?”

Gabriel starts tapping his foot again. Dean tries to shuffle closer. He’s almost under the table now. The position’s uncomfortable, the corner of the table digging into his neck. He slides his arm under Gabriel’s shin, letting his hand rest on the angel’s knee. He sees some slaves holding on to their Master like this, he thinks he can get away with that, at least. Gabriel squeezes his shoulder once, and Dean thinks maybe he’s thanking him.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Naomi laughs. “Yes. You are. I never thought you’d be the kind to… partake in those kinds of activities.”

“Well, I didn’t think you were either, and yet here we are. The both of us.”

“True,” Naomi answers, a bit of mirth in her voice. “But I don’t get why you’re bringing him when you won’t let anyone touch him.”

There’s a second of silence. Obviously, neither Dean nor Gabriel knows what’s happening here. But from the sound of it, it doesn’t seem like any regular club activity. Dean hopes nobody will want to touch him. He tries to make himself smaller.

“I’m simply here to observe, tonight.”

She huffs. “To each their own, I guess.” Dean sees her push her chair away from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me… show’s about to begin, and I really want this Little Thing to be chosen tonight.”

Dean assumes she’s talking about the slave girl. Shit. He wonders what kind of party this is. It sounds bad. Really bad. As she leaves he takes his hand away from Gabriel and takes his initial position again. Gabriel’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder. At least it doesn’t make him feel nauseous anymore, thank God for small mercies.

The music stops, suddenly, startling Dean a little. With a big ‘whoosh’, the curtains lift up by themselves and disappear into the ceiling as a single spotlight illuminates the stage, leaving a clear view of it for all to see. Dean’s curiosity getting the better of him, he can’t help looking up to see what’s happening.

A man in a thousand-dollar suit appears on stage, a mic in hand. Smiling at the audience who started applauding as soon as they caught sight of him, he raises his hand in the air, asking for silence.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and others…” he starts, and his Scottish accent surprises Dean, “ for those of you who know me, welcome back.” He pauses, letting the crowd cheer slightly. “For those who don’t, I’m Crowley, and I’ll be your host, tonight.” His smile is shark-like as he winks at someone in the first row. “You all know why you’re here, so let’s not waste time. Who wants to bet, tonight?”

The crowd seems to yell, all together at once, and several hands rise up. Crowley steps down from the stage and walks around, the spotlight following him as he takes a few seconds at each table to look at the slaves. “Isn’t she a tiny thing…” he mewls when he stops by Naomi’s table.

Dean can see Naomi passing him a few bills under the table as he bends over to look at the slave girl she brought.

“Up, girl,” Crowley tells the slave girl.

She obeys, turns around when he tells her to, and stops, taking the stance when he’s done. He turns to the room.

“What do you think?”

Some boo her, some applaud.

“I think she’ll do for a first round. Up on the stage, come on.”

He pushes the slave girl but doesn’t go with her as she crosses the few steps to the stage, alone and looking like she’s going to cry. Once in the center of the stage, she takes the stance again. She’s shaking, Dean sees.

“And who shall we choose to put against her, I wonder,” Crowley goes on, scanning the room. “I don’t see anyone as tiny as her… maybe we should choose someone way bigger. It could be fun.”

The people in the room cheer again. Dean takes the few seconds it lasts to give Gabriel a look. The angel looks back, pale and eyes wide.

Dean barely has the time to turn his gaze away again before the light’s on him, Crowley walking to him with a smirk that doesn’t say anything good. And Dean freezes. He can’t do it. He can’t do it, and he almost forgets why he’s here. He doesn’t have time to think, though. Gabriel pulls him up by his shirt and Dean falls into his lap. What—

“Okay, not you then…” Crowley says, pouting at Gabriel.

He passes by, walking around, and the spotlight follows. Dean lets out a sigh, and Gabriel squeezes his thigh. He’s not in the best position right now, sitting on Gabriel’s lap, he feels more than ridiculous, but somehow he’s not mad, or feeling sick, or angry. He’s just thankful. For now. So he decides to stay here, keep playing his part as best as he can. The floor isn’t that comfortable, anyway.

“Ah, now, look at that,” Crowley says, and the tone of his voice makes Dean turn to him again. “I think you’ll do very nicely...”

A big guy stands up, and Crowley doesn’t even have to tell him to go, he walks to the stage with the confidence of someone who’s been here already, and who’s used to this. Crowley follows him, and takes the center of the stage again.

“So you’re both familiar with the rules,” he tells the slaves, “you fight. The winner can do whatever he or she pleases with the loser. Take your places.”

He goes off stage then, taking a seat in the first row. Dean tries to sit more comfortably, shuffling a little bit in Gabriel’s lap. He doesn’t want to see this. God, he’s so uncomfortable, he just wants to—

“Don’t—Dean, don’t do that, please,” Gabriel whispers in his ear.

Hearing the panic in his voice, Dean has a second of confusion before he feels the start of a hard on against his ass. He huffs.

“Seriously,” Dean whispers back.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m nervous. And you’re hot. I mean, you’re—You’re warm. Fuck. Don’t move, alright?”

“You pitch a tent when you’re nervous?!”

“Shut up.”

“Go,” Crowley says, loud and clear.

The two slaves are both naked, now, and the big guy has the most enormous dick Dean’s ever seen. His eyes get stuck on it for a while, before he looks at the slave girl again. She’s shaking, tears slipping down her cheeks as she takes a fighting stance. The big guy doesn’t even blink as she jumps him. He twists her arm behind her back, straddling her back as she falls on the floor, crying out. The crowd laughs. The big guy smiles at them and flips her around. Dean sees her perky little breast jiggling as she tries to fight the big guy, but he’s too strong, and soon he has her arms pinned above her head with one hand, the other guiding his gigantic cock between her legs. Dean can’t look after that. Her screams are enough for him to know what’s happening. The crowd gets wild, encouraging the big guy, yelling obscenities at the girl.

He knows what she’s going through, but he can’t imagine having it happening to him in front of a room full of people. He holds on to Gabriel’s back, his knuckles turning white by the end of it. He knows it’s over when everyone applauds, and the girl’s sobs disappear.

“Sorry, Darling. I’m not sure you’ll get her back in one piece,” Crowley says, sounding as charming as he was before it all began.

When Dean looks, he sees Naomi shrug, a big satisfied smile on her face. Crowley winks at her and straightens up, scanning the crowd again.

“So, who’s next?”

“I can’t take any more of that,” Dean whispers.

“We need to stay, someone is going to come and talk to me.”

“You’ve seen what they do! How can you… how can you stand it?”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Dean, but we have to stay. It’s our only chance, please.”  

Letting out a shaky sigh, Dean nods. He spends the rest of the time with his head buried in Gabriel’s neck. He hates himself for it. He hates that Gabriel’s scent comforts him instead of repelling him like it did before. He hates that he’s so weak, now.

Some of the losers scream. Some don’t, just grunt, or even moan. Dean peeks, once, and sees a guy fucking another guy’s throat. The people around them sure seem to like what they see, though, and it feels to Dean like it’s never going to end. Luckily, it does after about two hours. Crowley says goodnight, the spotlight is turned off, and the curtains fall down around them again. And now he finds himself almost alone with Gabriel, sitting in the angel’s lap, his nose in his neck and unable to make a move. He’s gripping onto Gabriel’s back so tightly he can’t feel his arms anymore. He feels Gabriel’s hand run along his back, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s soothing.

“It’s over, Dean.”

“I know,” he mumbles against Gabriel’s skin. “Just gimme a minute.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Dean almost jumps hearing Crowley’s sickly sweet drawl, but he doesn’t. His whole body tenses, but he simply nuzzles his nose against Gabriel’s neck, pretending he’s kissing it. To his credit, Gabriel doesn’t jump either, and just tightens his grip on Dean. He pushes Dean away, wearing a very convincing annoyed look, and sighs as he lets Dean slide off his lap.

“Not at all,” he answers.

Dean falls to his knees again, and watches Crowley’s feet as the man sits in front of the angel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude… but as you were probably told, I need to check all our new clients myself, I’m sure you can understand.”

“I do.”

Dean stays close to Gabriel. He doesn’t know where this discussion is gonna go, but he stays alert in case they need to fight their way out of there.

“Good. So I’m guessing you’re also aware that because you’re you, I trust you even less that any other?”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting for you, I’m sure you’ve been told my interests lie less in your… activities here than in your other line of work?”

Dean has to give it to Gabriel, he would make a pretty good Mafioso. He keeps his voice low, and he barely shows any sign of nervousness. He just goes straight to the point, which Dean is very happy about. He just wants to leave, already. But first he wants to see how Crowley reacts. Looking up to Gabriel, he lets his hand caress the angel’s thigh. Gabriel slightly jumps, but keeps his gaze fixed on Crowley. 

Crowley raises an eyebrow, amused.

“What makes you think I have another ‘line of work’, as you put it?”

Gabriel gives him the same smirk Crowley’s been sporting all evening long.

“You know what happened with Lucifer. I discovered he associated with your Boss when he took Dean here from me and I went to take him back. I want to take over my brother’s business. I already took his slaves in, now I want more. You could say I, uh, want to profit from his legacy.”

Dean keeps fondling Gabriel’s thigh absent-mindedly as he tries to gauge Crowley’s reaction from his peripheral vision.

“Doesn’t mean I should trust you…” Crowley answers, squinting at Gabriel like he’s trying to gauge him, “nothing tells me you’re not sent here by your precious Council to try and take us down…”

“True. That’s why I’m not asking you to trust me blindly. For now, I just want to speak to your Boss.”

Crowley smiles, thoughtful, and snaps his fingers as a half-naked woman walks by them, dressed in what looks like a cheap slutty-demon Halloween costume.

“Bring us a drink, Love,” he tells her, before looking down at Dean. “He’s an eager one, isn’t he?”

Gabriel looks down, raising an eyebrow like he forgot Dean was here. Dean tries to look as innocent as he can, eyes wide and lips half-opened. 

“He is,” Gabriel says, running a hand through Dean’s hair. And okay, Dean can’t say anything about it, because he’s actually been fondling the guy’s thigh, even if he wasn’t doing it on a purpose. All part of the game, he remembers. “He’s very grateful that I took him back. Aren’t you, Boy?”

It takes Dean all his willpower not to throw the archangel a bitch face.

“Yes, Master,” he answers, demurely, sliding his hand up Gabriel’s thigh and thumbing at his hip.

He really hopes he’s making it believable for Crowley, because he’s really putting on a good show, here. The waitress, or whatever she is, chooses that moment to barge in, two drinks in hand. She quickly put them down and leaves. Crowley is still looking at Dean.

“Looks like he didn’t like that I interrupted.”

“He can wait,” Gabriel says, firm, slapping Dean’s hand away.

Dean looks down, pretending to be ashamed.

“Oh, please,” Crowley smiles, “don’t deny him on my account. Feel free to have him do whatever you want. This is why we’re all here for, after all.”

As if agreeing with him, someone moans very loudly in the background, and Dean’s throat suddenly gets dry. He can’t help looking at Crowley, and this time he doesn’t have to fake the embarrassment. Crowley is looking between them both, curious and maybe a bit expectant. Dean suspects he’s waiting to see if Gabriel is really the tough Master he’s pretending he is. From Dean’s experience, angel and demon masters alike have no shame using their slaves in public. That’s what they’re for, supposedly.

He finally looks up at Gabriel, one hand tentatively hovering over the angel’s thigh again. Gabriel looks down, and he doesn’t give anything away, but he starts tapping his foot again. Dean stops him with a brush of his fingers against his shin, and squeezes his thigh. If he has to pretend to suck Gabriel’s dick to make Crowley believe them, then so be it. He can do that, at least. As long as he doesn’t have to do it for real.

When Gabriel doesn’t react, Dean takes things in his own hands. Not literally, mind you. He just makes his way between Gabriel’s legs, and starts unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Gabriel’s whole body freezes, and he lets out a nervous laugh as he looks up at Crowley again. Dean keeps opening his pants, until it really looks like he’s about to take Gabriel’s dick out, and then he bends over, and starts moving his head up and down, knowing Crowley can only see the top of his hair.

“Rumor has it that you freed all your slaves…” Crowley finally goes on, as if nothing weird is happening.

Gabriel chuckles unhappily. “We had to improve my reputation after what that journalist girl wrote about me… but I can assure you that everything you heard was just for show.”

The angel’s hand shoots up under the table, holding on to Dean’s shoulder like his life depends on it, and, as Dean lets his hands rest on either side of Gabriel’s length, he can feel the angel getting slowly hard under his shorts. Shit. Dean had definitely not planned that. He should’ve thought it could happen. Fucking archangel, can’t control his own vessel!

Crowley hums, thoughtful. Gabriel let’s out a shaky breath before he speaks again.

“So when can I meet your Boss?”

Impatient little shit, Dean thinks. He manages to sound unimpressed, though. A bit too much for a guy who’s getting his cock sucked, in Dean’s opinion. And Dean thinks, he deserves a little punishment for not being able to hold his hard on back. He pushes his thumb right into Gabriel’s balls, violently, and pulls away as soon as Gabriel’s jumps, letting out a loud “humpf!”

Gabriel grips his hair and pulls.

“Careful,” he growls.

He’s not acting, and Dean almost chuckles, but he remembers himself at the last second.

“Feisty little thing you have here…” Crowley says instead of answering. “I’m sure my… Boss would like to meet him. In person. If you bring him again next time you’re invited, maybe I can arrange a meeting. After all, that boy of yours is quite famous, now.”

“Yes, that he is…”

“Did he really manage to escape?”

“Yes. Purely out of luck, of course. And he’s been thoroughly punished for it.”

And that does it. Dean can’t pretend to do this anymore, and he’s been pretending long enough anyway, he thinks. Hating himself for having to do this, but he has to keep Gabriel’s head in the game too, and to be honest he wants to get back at Gabriel for that comment he just made, he squeezes the archangel’s length once, just enough that it probably hurt. Gabriel let’s out a startled gasp. Dean gathers saliva inside his mouth, letting is drip on the side of his mouth as he straightens up, buttoning Gabriel’s pants and buckling his belt again.

Gabriel clears his throat. “So when is your next party held?”

Dean goes back to kneeling next to Gabriel’s chair, and makes sure to only wipe his mouth once Crowley is looking at him.

“These parties…” he waves around, eyes still on Dean, smirking, before he looks back at Gabriel, “are held every Friday night. The kinds you want to go to, though… we don’t disclose anything about those until it’s time. You’ll get your invitation in the mail, if I decide you’re worth it.”

“I hope you’ll make the right decision, then.”

“I’m sure I will,” Crowley answers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other people to see.” He stands up, hands in his pockets.

Gabriel nods, and slumps back in his chair as soon as Crowley left and let the curtains shield them both from unwanted eyes. He looks at Dean, eyes wide open.

“What the fuck was that?!!”

“What the fuck was what?”

Gabriel points to his crotch. “ _That_!!”

Dean tries to look innocent. He’s sure he fails.

“Had to convince the guy. Sorry about your balls. My hand slipped.” Ending his sentence with a smirk, Dean winks at Gabriel. He stands up, stretching his legs. “Can we go now?”

It’s a crazy thing to admit but he feels invigorated by what happened. He almost forgot his fear. It’s not quite the case, though, so he really wants to get out of here. Quick.

“Sure,” Gabriel sighs. “I hate this place…”

 

**_________________________________________________**

 

 

Back in the car, things get awkward again. Dean can’t believe he spent most of his evening in Gabriel’s lap. And he _liked it_. He can’t help being slightly angry at himself. And at Gabriel, too, for allowing it to happen. Huffing, he rests his chin on his hand, keeping his gaze locked on the outside. Until Gabriel clears his throat, that is. Dean raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you…” Gabriel starts, embarrassed. “Are you worried that Meg will be angry with you, about, you know… what happened?”

Surprised, Dean takes a second to answer.

“Why—“ he cuts himself. _Why would she be angry?_ He was about to ask. But he gets it, suddenly. Gabriel thinks he and Meg are together. “I… she’ll understand,” he says instead.

“Good. Good,” Gabriel answers. But he’s still fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt. After another few seconds he looks up again. “I don’t want you to be in trouble because of me…”

“It’s fine…” Dean sighs.

Seriously.

“I mean, I—“

“Gabriel. I said it’s fine. Quit it.”

There’s silence after that, and Dean keeps looking out the window, enjoying the peace. He’s gonna have to do what they did tonight again, he knows that. That Crowley guy said his ‘Boss’ wanted to meet him. He knows Gabriel isn’t talking about it, because he’s probably scared Dean will say no. So Dean needs to clear that out, now, so Gabriel won’t beat around the bush for days before he dares ask Dean about it.

“Next time we’ll have to be more prepared, do some research before we go meet some more demons…” Dean suggests.

Gabriel looks surprised and doesn’t answer.

“That’s what he is, isn’t he? That Crowley guy?”

Gabriel nods. “Next time?”

“Yeah, you heard the guy. If you want to see Alastair you’ll have to bring me as a gift. I’m not stupid, I know you were already thinking about how to ask me to put my ass on the line again.”

Looking down on his hands, Gabriel sighs. “I’m sorry I should’ve said something as soon as we got out, I just… I don’t know.”

“I get it. You want to help your brother.”

“But you don’t. You don’t like Michael.”

True. Dean looks out the window again, his eyes trailing the lights of the city blurring in front of him as the car passes them.

“I want this Lucifer thing to be over, once and for all. If the only way to get that is helping you…” Dean shrugs, letting out a sigh, “then I’ll do it. It doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice, anyway.”

“But you do,” Gabriel answers, straightening up on his seat. “I could understand if you wanted to leave. I could find someone else.”

“It’s fine. I’ll do it. I wanna catch the son of a bitch as much as you do.”

Hesitating, Gabriel shifts in his seat before he says something else. “What if… what if we have to… do things? Things like you pretended to do this evening, but this time with no way of pretending… I don’t want to…” he huffs, frustrated. Dean lets him finish his sentence. “We’re talking. Granted, most of the time we’re not on good terms, but at least we’re talking, and I hope… I hope we can keep what we have now… but if… if we have to do things you don’t want to do but feel forced to, then I don’t want you to hate me again, I don’t want to lose you again, Dean.” He sighs. “I’d rather have to put someone else through all this rather than lose you forever.”

Dean blinks slowly, trying not to be too aggressive in his answer. The angel doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get anything. “You can’t lose me,” he says, carefully. “Because I’m not yours. You don’t have me, you don’t have anything with me. And when I say I’ll help, I know what I’m offering. I’ll be fine.”

His tone is final, leaving no room for another argument from Gabriel. The angel nods, slightly, looking pensive. They spend the rest of the trip looking out their respective windows, and in silence.

When they finally get to the mansion, Gabriel clears his throat again as Dean exits the car.

“You’re gonna have to sleep here… in the house, I mean. If we want to keep our cover, for now.”

He looks embarrassed, and he avoids Dean’s eyes.

“Fine.”

“You can… you can take my room, if you want. I don’t really sleep, these days. I just… I don’t feel like it. So you’re welcome to my bed. If you want to.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dean answers without even looking back.

It seems it’s the only word he can still use tonight. Fine, fine, fine, fine. Everything’s fine. But once inside, once he went through Sammy’s inspection to make sure he was okay, and once showered and changed, he can’t help thinking about it. About Gabriel’s room.

Dean starts wondering if maybe it will help, sleeping in Gabriel’s bed. Or would it trigger a panic attack, he wonders? Would it be comforting, or scary? Would it turn him on?

He’s still thinking about it when he enters the kitchen to find a quick something to munch on. He finds Meg there, nursing what looks to be a mug of tea. She smirks at him and takes a sip.

“So, how was your night?”

He shrugs, coming closer to sniff at her mug. Ugh. Smells like… grass?

“A lot less hellish than I thought it would be. What’s that?”

She looks down on her tea. “I don’t know. Mrs. Herbert gave it to me. It’s supposed to help me sleep.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at her. He feels a small smile tug at his lips. Just a few seconds of talking to Meg and he feels better already.

“Why would you need something to sleep?”

She doesn’t answer right away, staring at her mug instead. “I was worried.”

Laughing, he pats her shoulder. “Aw, you worried about me. That’s cute.”

“Shut up…” she quietly chuckles, “what are you still doing here?”

He lets an annoyed grunt past his lips before he answers, scratching the back of his neck.

“We met one of Alastair’s handler tonight but… the Big Guy himself wasn’t there and apparently he’s eager to meet me so…” he sighs, “I need to stay here, pretend I’m still a slave for a little while and try again with Gabriel when we get invited to one of Alastair’s ‘special party’, whatever than means.”

Worry creases Meg’s brow and she puts her mug down on the kitchen counter, suddenly serious.

“Dean… it’s… I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Her voice drops, and suddenly she’s whispering. “I’ve seen how you react to Gabriel. Not to be a bitch or anything, but I don’t think you could handle too much of that pretend-to-be-a-slave-again crap.”

“I’ll be fine,” _I’m always fine. Fine, fine, fine_. “Besides, I’m a grown ass man, I can take care of myself.”

She huffs unhappily. “Right. Whatever you say, Cowboy.” Picking up her mug again, she gives Dean one last calculating look before she sighs. “I trust you. If you say it’s okay… then, okay. I’m going to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

He nods, bending down to put a kiss on her forehead. “Night.”

“The kids, Bobby and Victor are still using the dorms, so… be quiet when you get there.”

“A’ight.”

He watches her leave, thoughtful. He’s had trouble sleeping with people in the same room for a while. Even with Sam. It always feels like he’s not safe, somehow. Which is stupid, really. Sleeping alone is way more dangerous than sleeping with someone by your side, he learnt that the hard way, as a hunter. But the idea or sleeping surrounded by old guys and kids… well. It doesn’t sit well with him.

He wants to go home. But he can’t. And the idea of taking Gabriel’s room for himself tonight seems more and more appealing as he thinks about it.

It’s a split-second decision. He’s tired, he reasons, and he just wants a good night’s sleep before everything goes to shit. Gabriel’s bed is comfortable. And maybe he’ll panic or get some weird flash-backs. He doesn’t care. The memories of how soft the mattress is, how good he slept in Gabriel’s bed are enough to make him move and almost run upstairs before he changes his mind.

He stops in front of Gabriel’s study, hesitating for a second before he knocks. When he enters after hearing Gabriel’s invitation, the angel is standing by the window, still as a statue.

Dean clears his throat and Gabriel turns around.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, uh,” Dean hesitates, lingering in the doorway. “I was wondering if… you were still cool with me using your room?”

Gabriel looks tired, and a bit out of it. It takes him a few seconds to answer, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Sure. It’s all yours.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Dean waits, to see if the angel is gonna say something else, but when he doesn’t, just staring at Dean like he’s almost looking through him, Dean gives up. “Good night.”

Gabriel just nods as Dean goes out. It’s weird, the way the angel is behaving when he’s in the mansion. Ever since he came back from his and Michael’s trial, he always looks exhausted, withdrawn. But tonight he seemed fine. Alone with Dean, he looked a little bit like his old self.

Dean scoffs as he reaches Gabriel’s bedroom. Who cares, anyway? Certainly not Dean. He has other problems to care about.

Opening the door, Dean steps inside carefully. Everything is in its right place, he thinks. The giant four poster bed on his left, the fireplace, with its little couch in front of it, on his right. The curtains are closed, as usual, and the lights are dimmed, making the room look cozy and warm.

That is the weirdest thing, ever. How can it feel so normal?

When he steps close to the bed and runs his hand through the red silk sheets, he doesn’t get horrible flash-backs, doesn’t think about Lucifer. Or he does, because it’s not the same as it was at Lucifer’s. Here, it’s almost comical, and it reminds him of the first time he stepped in here. His first thought was “friendly sex dungeon”. Those red sheets certainly make it look like a porno set.

He chuckles. Maybe it’s because he’s nervous. He doesn’t want to admit he has fond memories of this place, even though he knows now he wasn’t a hundred percent into it. How could he? He was a slave. Even if Gabriel asked for his consent, it was at least a bit forced on Dean’s part. Because Gabriel was his Master, and somehow he felt obligated, even when he enjoyed himself.

But not now. Not anymore.

Sighing, he takes off his pants and shirts, and slides under the covers. God! He forgot how comfortable the bed really was. When he looks on the side of the bed he feels a little pang of satisfaction going through his body, as he sees his clothes all bundled up on the floor. He doesn’t have to fold them. He doesn’t have to put them in the box by the door. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. He just has to relax, and drift into sleep. Which he does. Without even realizing.

 

 

**_________________________________________________**

Dean sleeps like a friggin’ baby. It hasn’t happened in a while, and he’s more than confused by the fact that falling asleep surrounded by Gabriel’s scent is the most comforting thing he’s felt in a while. He doesn’t want it to be. But his subconscious has other ideas, apparently.

Sam tried to say something about the fact that Dean now sleeps in Gabriel’s room. Well, now, it’s more like Dean’s room. He invested the place and he intends on enjoying it as long as he can. But anyway Dean told Sam to stick his concerns where the sun doesn’t shine. He’s fine.

For now, they still haven’t heard back from Crowley. So Sam and Gabriel started investigating, as they said. Sam still goes to SRM meetings. The SRM stands for ‘Slaves Rights Movement’, and in Dean’s opinion it’s the lamest name you could give an activist group, but whatever. Sam speaks to a lot of people, ‘opening up’ when they show concern, telling the sad story of his brother who’s being held by the archangel Gabriel, the bastard who killed Lucifer and wants to take over his brother’s district.

They need those rumors to spread, and so Sam is almost never at the mansion anymore. Dean feels kinda lonely, and he can’t do anything, since he has to stay on the property. Meg helps, a bit. But she spends more and more time with Castiel, trying to teach him how to do human stuff. It’s hilarious to watch. So Dean watches, and, after almost two weeks, he gets bored. And jittery.

Not knowing when he and Gabriel will have to go undercover again, and what they’ll have to do in order to obtain the information Gabriel wants, just grates Dean’s nerves. He can’t sit still, and spends his days wandering around the house, trying to find something to do. But Charlie and Gilda’s house is done, and they haven’t started on the next one, yet. He keeps occupied by doing all the things he did before when he was a slave, but even this is not enough. The more time passes, the more anxious he gets.

It doesn’t makes things better that Gabriel is out more and more often, trying to show his face in some of the less reputable clubs of the city so as to make his cover believable. He always comes back with _that_ look on his face. A look that says he’s scared, and anxious too, and Dean can’t stand that. It makes everything ten times worse.

He thinks maybe taking a page out of Sam’s book and talking about it will help. Maybe.

“It’s not too late to back out, Dean,” Sam tells him when he explains. “I can always take your place. Or we can find someone else. You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel up for it.”

Dean tsks, tells him not to worry and moves on.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Dean,” Meg says.

Jess is here in the kitchen with them, too, baking a cake while Meg and Dean sit, drinking coffee.

“You should find something relaxing to do,” Jess comes in.

“Yeah, like getting laid,” Meg smirks.

Dean gives her a bitch face without answering.

“Or maybe you should talk about it with Gabriel,” Jess adds. She stops stirring her dough and wipes her hands on a cloth. “He seems as anxious as you are… maybe talking about it would help you both.”

Dean looks down at his coffee, trying to look as casual as he can appear.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea…”

“Well, you won’t know until you try, right?”

Meg elbows him gently and winks. “Yeah. Go on. Be a big boy and go talk to your angel.”

“He’s not my—“ Meg’s smirk stops him. She’s screwing with him. “Whatever. We’ll see.”

Two days later he’s knocking at Gabriel’s door, the one to his study, heart beating way faster than it should in a situation like this. It’s just a talk. Nothing bad.

Gabriel is a bit surprised to see Dean, but he listens without interrupting.

Once Dean is done explaining his situation to Gabriel, the angel lets out a sigh.

“I feel the same, Dean,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I’d understand if it’s too much for you.”

Dean is more than uncomfortable sitting so close to him, on the couch, but it’s better than talking to Gabriel from the other side of a desk. It’s less formal that way.

“I don’t want to give up on it,” Dean adds. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking about it and I think, maybe… we should try getting used to each other again. Hell knows what we’ll have to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Dean huffs, frustrated, “I don’t know, just… talk. You and I. Alone. Just to make things easier.”

Looking away, Gabriel thinks about it for a while before he turns to Dean again.

“I could come before you go to bed, and we can chat, if you’d like?”

That’s fine by Dean’s standards.

 Dean nods. “Yeah, sounds good.”

They agree on that, and that’s it. Dean leaves, goes to bed, and waits for the next night to come. Anxiety bubbles up inside him as the day passes. He knows Gabriel probably won’t try anything funny, but he can’t help being scared. Back on the night they infiltrated the club, it was different. They were out of the house, for one thing. Gabriel was Dean’s safety net. But here? Completely different thing. Dean hasn’t even told Sam. First, he wants to see how it goes tonight. Then, if it becomes a regular occurrence… maybe he won’t tell Sam, anyway. He knows what his brother’s going to say. It’s not because Sam works graciously with Gabriel, now, that he still doesn’t have doubts when it comes to him and Dean.

So when it’s finally time, Dean doesn’t say anything to Sam, or Meg for that matter, and tries to act as normal as possible. Even though he goes to bed a little earlier than he’s used to. He hopes nobody notices.

He and Gabriel talk. One night. Two nights. Then a third. On the fourth, Dean starts to see it won’t be enough. Just talking won’t be enough. He has to get used to Gabriel touching him. He sees how nervous he gets when Gabriel sits a little bit too close to him. He’s sure it shows on his face. What if they actually have to fuck, or worse? Dean has to get a hold of himself. So, he needs Gabriel to touch him. Not sexually, not yet. Actually, he’s almost sure he won’t ever be completely ready for that. But just… getting used to the angel’s touch should help a little.

God, he hates this situation. He wishes he was just a heartless bastard. At least he could let Sam take his place and get the hell out of here. But he’s not, and just thinking about Sam having to be someone’s slave even for a night makes him want to throw up.

When Gabriel comes in that night, Dean is already sitting on the couch, knees close to his chest, looking blankly at the empty fireplace. Gabriel sits next to him, letting out a long sigh.

“I thought I was never gonna be able to get out of that one,” he exclaims.

He went to another club tonight. Whatever happened there, Dean doesn’t want to hear the details. He looks up at the angel.

“We need to talk.”

There. Straight to the point. Gabriel huffs a laugh.

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“No, just… I need to ask you something.”

Slowly, the indulgent smile disappears from Gabriel’s face. “I’m listening.”

It’s so difficult for Dean. He’s been working himself up all day about this. He clears his throat.

“I, uh… I think just talking, just this… we should…” Incredible. He can’t even get a sentence out. He takes a breath. “You need to touch me.”

Gabriel blinks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“Just… I need to get used to it. It’d make me feel better, I think… for later.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh. That’s all Gabriel has to say, then, huh? Standing up, Dean stretches his arms in an attempt to look casual.

“So let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Turning around as he walks to the bed to see Gabriel’s reaction would just break his resolve. So he walks, and he sits on the edge of the bed, and he waits. After a moment of silence, he hears footsteps. They get close, and the bed dips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Gabriel, I’m sure.” He closes his eyes. “Please don’t try to make me change my mind.”

“Okay. How… how do you want to…”

“No touching under the waist. No mouth anywhere. Just hands. Just… getting used to each other, that’s all.”

He opens his eyes again. The angel is looking at him, concerned.

“Alright.”

There’s no good way to do this, so when Gabriel raises his hand, Dean closes his eyes. He flinches when the angel’s hand touches his shoulder. Gabriel sighs.

“Dean, you don’t need to do this.”

He removes his hand. Opening his eyes, Dean turns to him. He’s angry, all of a sudden. He knows what he needs and doesn’t need to do, thank you very much.

“Yeah, I do, get to it already!”

“No. You don’t want it. Don’t interrupt,” he orders, when Dean opens his mouth again. “You’re all jumpy just because I touched your shoulder. You’re not ready. You think you are, and you think you need this, but you don’t.”

What does Gabriel knows about it? He thinks he knows Dean, but he really doesn’t. Dean huffs.

“Right. Now you’re acting all shy.”

“Yes, Dean. I am, you know why?” Gabriel tilts his head on the side, and speaks again before Dean has time to answer. “Because I think you’ve been having panic attacks ever since we came back. And that’s what prompted you to ask me this.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“Okay, so explain why you went straight for the bed when it could have worked right where we were a minute ago?” Gabriel shakes his head, looking away. “You’re expecting me to break your rules. So you chose my bed because it makes it easier, it’s familiar. I’ve seen the way you just stop and stare into space sometimes. That’s what a panic attack can be like. And now because of that you think we have to have sex if you want to be comfortable with me. That’s not how it works.”

“I’m fine.”

It’s bullshit. Everything Gabriel’s telling him. A big pile of crap. And Dean intends on telling the angel, but when he looks up at him, and sees him stare back with a look of concern on his face, he can’t. All he feels now is disgust, and anger. Against himself, against Gabriel. Shit.

“You’re not. It’s okay to admit it,” Gabriel says, standing up. “Now, come on. Let’s go back on this very comfortable couch over there, and talk for a bit, alright?”

But Dean is paralyzed. There’s a giant wave of shame crashing onto him, and he can’t move. He can’t do anything but hide his face in his hand and wait until it goes away.

“Just leave me alone, okay,” he tells Gabriel, his voice shaking. “You don’t want me anymore, I get it. Just go.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t be like that.”

It’s starting to dawn on Dean that yes, he’s acting like an ass, he doesn’t even know why. Gabriel is right, he thinks. The way Dean’s been working himself up, maybe he’s the freaky one. Maybe he wants Gabriel to fuck him senseless but his dick just won’t get the hint so he’s unconsciously trying to have the angel touch him? He doesn’t know, nothing makes sense anymore and he’s just ashamed. So ashamed. God, what’s happening?

“Okay, Dean, just breathe.”

Dean feels more than he hears Gabriel crouching in front of him. It only makes things worse.

“Shuddup…”

“Remember what I said about panic attacks? This is one, right here. Just breathe and don’t let it control you.”

An uncontrollable laugh leaves Dean’s mouth. Seriously?

“Look at you, being all… all reasonable and shit…” God, he’s shaking. When did that started? “Just… leave me alone, I’m fine… I’m f-fine.”

A hand on his knee. Warm. Solid.

“Breathe. Nothing is happening, okay? We’re just going to go sit on the couch, and talk, like we’ve been doing for the last week.”

Maybe Gabriel is right. It starts to feel like panic, alright. The only thing he can tell himself now is, _what the fuck_? Why is this happening, now, of all times, just because Dean feels a little bit of harmless shame? He’s been through worse, and he’s never felt that way before…

“What’s ha-happening to me,” he utters.

“Nothing you won’t survive, trust me. It’s alright, you’re just tired. Take a deep breath, hold it in…”

“You’re full o’ shit…”

Dean still does what Gabriel tells him, though. The angel keeps rambling, but Dean doesn’t listen, overwhelmed by everything he’s feeling. He keeps breathing. He doesn’t even know what’s happening right now. Only that’s he’s fucked, and he’s stuck, and there’s no future, no present, just the incessant rush of feelings going through his body, too fast for him to process them.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

Dean groans in response.

“Come on,” Gabriel insists. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Fuck you,” Dean answers, weakly.

He still forces his eyes open, blinking away tears he wasn’t aware were there. And it pains him to admit it but the angel is right. It does feel better to see his surroundings, to realize he’s still here. He’s in Gabriel’s room, in a real cozy place, where nothing bad will happen to him. He takes a breath.

Gabriel moves until he’s in Dean’s line of vision, a curious look in his face. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “but it’s totally your fault, talking about panic attack and… and all. You gave me one.”

“Sure,” Gabriel smirks.

Well, Dean can’t really argue anymore, and he doesn’t know what more to say, because he’s still feeling shame creep up, twisting his stomach into knots. So he lets Gabriel pull him up and drag him back to the couch.

“Now…” the angel goes on, settling in a corner, as far from Dean as possible, “we’re going to sit here, and chat, like we always do, and you’re gonna stop thinking about Alastair, okay? We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

There’s a witty retort on the tip of Dean’s tongue. But he stops himself at the last moment. Gabriel is right. Dean’s fucked up, anyway. It’s not a few nights of cuddling or whatever that are gonna do the trick and cure him.

So he sits, and they chat. And they keep doing it. Until things finally change.

 

**_________________________________________________**

The invitation comes in the mail, in the form of a gift card for a stay in some tacky hotel in Las Vegas. When Gabriel shows it to Dean, Dean can’t really believe it’s the real deal. But with the flyer comes a handwritten invitation that says: ‘ _Not sure I believe you, yet, but the Boss wants to see you and your eager Puppy. If you come, be prepared to play. See you soon, C._ ’

So he accepts that it is, indeed, the real deal. Gabriel gathers everyone, including the children, and explains what’s going to happen. He tells them they don’t know for how long they’ll be gone, they don’t know if they’ll come back. He gives Cas and Sam instructions on what to do in case Gabriel dies. Things to help the others survive. He gives Cas an envelope with some paperwork inside, his bank account details, and so on, just in case. Dean barely listens. It’s too hard to see the pain on his friends’ faces, to hear the children ask why they have to go. He just wants it to be over and done with.

And at the same time, he’s scared to death.

_Be prepared to play_ , the note said. Dean knows what that means. Sam too, and he keeps insisting on taking Dean’s place. But it’s too late, now. It’s Dean the demons want. No one else.

It’s gonna be okay, he keeps repeating himself. Last time, he felt as scared and as nervous as he feels now, but once there it was okay. Once he gets into the right headspace, it’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

No, but really, who is he kidding? He’s not. He’s not okay, and he’s not ready. He wants everything to be over, he wants to be on the road again. But as long as Lucifer’s shadow looms over him through Alastair’s shit, he won’t be able to move on. He knows it. He’s not stupid, despite everything. Reckless, yeah, sure. He’s a hunter, after all, there’s no guarantee that each hunt won’t be the last, so he does things, things that might appear stupid to other people. To him, they’re just spur of the moment kinda things, rushes of adrenaline. Chances he took, because why not?

But this… this whole ‘get into Alastair’s metaphoric pants’ is a whole new level of fucked up.

Dean feels his heart speed up at the thought. Hopefully, Gabriel calls the end of the meeting. Nobody wants to stay in this room, where the air is heavy with tension, so when everybody runs off to find something to do, Dean follows.

He steps outside, and the heat hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s suffocating, almost palpable, heavy on his shoulders, but he stands under the sun for a while anyway, until it burns and he can’t stand it anymore. After that he wanders aimlessly, eyes on the ground, letting his feet carry him. Sweat rolls down his face, on the back of his neck, and in the crook of his lower back. He lets himself feel it simmer down his body. It keeps his mind off the dreadful things that he’s going to go through soon.

Neither the note nor Gabriel gave him an exact date. It was kind of an open invitation, he guessed, but he knows Gabriel is keen on setting Michael free, and he won’t wait long. Dean suspects they haven’t left right after the announcement to the others because Gabriel knows Dean needs some time. Dean hates it. He hates that Gabriel acts like he cares about what Dean feels. The angel just feels guilty, that’s all. There’s nothing genuine about his actions, Dean’s sure of it. It’s just self-pity, disguised as thoughtfulness.

Fuck him, Dean thinks.

He’s about to turn around and tell Gabriel they ought to pack and leave already when he spots Jordan, kneeling under a tree. She’s looks like a little spot on the horizon, a blur of colors melting under the burning sun, but Dean knows it’s her.

Carefully, he joins her, only to realize there are tombs around. Some crosses made of wood, some stones engraved and made to stand in the grass. Jordan raises her head when she hears he’s close, wiping a tear from her cheek. She doesn’t say anything when he crouches next to her, reading the word on the stone before her. _Marissa Wyatt_.

It hits him, suddenly. It’s been a year since her mother died. Must have been. She’s been an orphan for a year, and nobody noticed. She didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” is all he can think to say.

He knows the pain of losing a parent at a young age, a mother at that, but he spent so much time and effort forgetting about the pain it made him feel, still makes him feel if he thinks too hard about it, that he doesn’t really know how to approach Jordan. And anyway, she’s way braver than he was. When his mom died, he stopped talking for months. He guesses, after what happened after Lucifer, that’s just how he cops with trauma. He forgets, and his brain just shuts down for a while. But Jordan never forgot, and she never once showed how affected she was. She did cry in Dean’s arms once or twice at the beginning, but that’s it. So seeing her cry now is even more heartbreaking for Dean.

Instead of answering, a sob escapes her lips, shaking her whole body. Dean’s first instinct is to put his hand on her shoulder, not pushing, just letting her know he’s here if she wants a hug, or some comfort of the sort.

“Sorry,” she whispers after she calmed down enough to speak.

“Don’t be. I still miss my mom, even after twenty-six years, y’know.”

“It’s not that!”

His hand slips from her shoulder, taken aback by the little outburst.

“Sorry,” she says again.

Sighing, he sits down properly and opens his arms. “Come here.”

She sniffles, avoiding his gaze, but she unfolds her legs from under her and comes to sit close, resting her head on his chest. He closes his arm around her, despite the heat.

He contemplates the headstone for a few seconds.

“So, what’s up?”

It takes a while for her to start talking. She fidgets with her dress, looking down, before she takes a big breath and opens her mouth.

“Sometimes I forget that Mama’s even dead,” she breathes, as if admitting it out loud will bring something bad, “and today I forgot again. What if I forget forever?”

She looks up to him, desperate, tears in her eyes. He has to think about it before he answers.

“A lot of things happened in the last few months,” he says. “It’s not surprising that you got distracted, you get that?”

She doesn’t answer, and instead starts playing with a little rock at her feet.

“And if you think she’ll think you don’t love her properly anymore, well,” he adds, a bit unsure of himself, “well, that’s not true. She knows. She knows you need a bit of space to live your life, you know? She won’t be mad at you because sometimes things get overwhelming and you don’t have space in your mind to think about her. She’ll always love you. No matter what. Because she’s your Mom, okay?”

It feels like he’s talking to his younger self, or maybe a younger Sam, and it makes him a little uncomfortable. But when Jordan looks up, he smiles at her, and tries to appear confident.

He tilts his head in interrogation, waiting for her answer, but nothing comes.

“Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

He holds her tight as they watch the tomb for a few minutes in silence.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Please don’t die, okay?”

It’s surprising, and heartbreaking at the same time, and so Dean doesn’t find words to answer. Instead, he plants a kiss on her forehead, squeezes her shoulder and whispers, “Okay.”


	3. Ramble On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went on the supernaturalWiki because y'all keep writing about "Alistair", but I was fairly sure I wrote it right in the fic, but I started doubting myself anyway. Now I can confirm : The character in Supernatural is called "Alastair", with an 'a'. 
> 
> So this is the first thing I wanted to talk about. Second... I'm pretty sure there's something in this chapter you've been waiting for for almost a year now if you've been reading Ride that Wind, so... enjoy the chapter! :D

# CHAPTER 3 : Ramble On

 

Dean’s not the kind of guy who marches into battle unprepared, despite what people might think. So, seeing as Gabriel doesn’t seem to want to move just yet, Dean decided to do some proper research. He wants to know what he’ll have to do, and be ready for everything. Get everything he needs, so to speak.

Actually, it turns out he has to buy a lot of things. Dean now knows what’s inside the drawer in Gabriel’s room. When Gabriel told him angels didn’t pull things out of thin air, but just called pre-existing objects to them thanks to their Grace, Dean figured he must have had an impressive stash of dildos and toys of all sorts hidden somewhere. Well, they weren’t exactly hidden.

And they won’t be enough for the kind of parties they’re going to.

So he buys things, sneaks them into Gabriel’s room. He hasn’t dared open the shopping bags he brought back ever since then. He and Gabriel have been talking every night, and it’s become a regular thing, by now. But Gabriel never once mentioned the invite again. And Dean’s getting antsy. So he’s going to let the angel know he’s more than prepared, now.

When Gabriel comes this evening, Dean has all the bags out from where he stashed them in the bathroom, and he’s standing over them like somehow they’re going to disappear if he doesn’t stay right where he is.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow when he sees them.

“What’s all that?”

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat, “stuff. For Vegas.”

“You know we’re not going on vacation, right?”

Okay, Dean’s more than annoyed already. He takes a breath. “Shut up and sit, I’ll explain.”

Gabriel huffs a laugh but does as he’s told, and he sits on the couch. Dean kneels down, looking at the bags as he speaks.

“So, I’ve done some research. I found this, uh, website…” he glances toward Gabriel, trying not to blush, “for humans who own slaves. I didn’t know it was a thing, but apparently it is, and they’re… they’re a bunch of really creepy rich assholes.”

Smiling, Gabriel raises an eyebrow. Dean takes that as a sign he should go on, so he does.

“I told them I was one of them and I wanted to take a little trip to Vegas with my slave, and… well.” He clears his throat again, opening one of the bags. “They told me what I should bring.” He looks up again. “See, they have a sort of, uh, of code, when they want to talk about crap that’s barely legal, right? So, I also asked about the kind of parties demons like to throw over there. And they gave me a list of things I should bring if I wanted to, uh _, have some experimental fun,_ as they put it.”

“Okay… so what is it?”

Shit, Dean’s really going to have to take the things out of the bags, huh? He sighs, embarrassed, and takes the first item out.

“Just imagine me trying to buy that thing,” he chuckles, more for himself than for Gabriel.

The angel’s eyes widen, looking at the cock ring in Dean’s hands with a quizzical look on his face.

The label says it’s a ‘cock ring’, but it’s like a deluxe version in Dean’s opinion. It has two holes, one for the testes, one for the cock, and a plug attached to it. Like three accessories in one. The lights of the room barely reflects against the black silicone.

When Dean sees Gabriel isn’t going to comment, he puts the cock ring down and takes the next items out. Three bottles of lubes, because, duh, and a bottle of sextoys sanitizer.

“I figured we can never have too much of that,” Dean says, putting them down.

He takes out the kinbaku rope, too, giving the angel a look. This is really awkward, but he has to say it.

“It’s better than all your satiny crap, and I just… I know you have shackles and everything but I don’t… I just, I don’t like shackles.” He keeps getting things out as he speaks. A black plug follows. “This can be useful, too, uh…” A pack of condoms. “In case I have to get my freaks on with some other humans, y’know.” A paddle. “I don’t like this, at all, but… it’s kind of necessary. I’d rather you have your own than use the ones they have over there, and, hum…” A collar. Black, simple. Made of silicone, too, because Dean figured it would hurt less than hard leather. He turns it in his hands, his finger brushing the D-shaped ring on the front of it. He puts it down. Takes out a leash. Black too. He bought everything in shades of black. He doesn’t want any of this to stand out. “I’ll need a collar, so… I don’t know if you’ll need this…” he gives the leash a thoughtful look, “but I guess it doesn’t hurt to have one, just in case.”

When he finally finds the courage to look up, Gabriel’s staring at the toys, shocked. Oh, God, he’s about to cry, isn’t he?

“Dean…” he breathes, sliding down off the couch.

He kneels in front of Dean, his hand hovering over the objects on the floor before him, but he doesn’t touch them.

“Dean, you don’t ha—“

“Cut the crap,” Dean exclaims. “I did my homework, I know what’s going to happen, and I tell you we need this, or else they’ll know we don’t have any idea what we’re getting ourselves into.”

Gabriel eyes him for a moment. It’s a bit unnerving, and Dean watches anxiously as the angel twists his mouth, clearly thinking.

“Alright,” he breathes, resigned.

He stares at the toys again, and picks up the cock ring. Dean huffs.

“I knew you’d like that one.”

Gabriel almost drops the toy. He opens his mouth, and closes it again.

“I…,” he looks at the cock ring again, puts two fingers inside one of the ring and let it hang like this. “I don’t like it, it’s just… I haven’t been to a sex shop in a long while, I just… this is new. It looks weird. I… are you sure about all this?”

He waves around with his other hand. Trying not to smile too much, because honestly it’s always fun to see Gabriel get all flustered, Dean picks up the collar.

“Yeah. And about this one… uh, the clerk told me it was very receptive to Grace so you can… uh, add your sigil to it, I guess.”

Gabriel puts the cock ring down and takes the collar from Dean. Their fingers brush, for barely a second, but it makes Dean feel so uncomfortable he has to wipe his hands on his jeans.

“I don’t know how you can do it, he couldn’t tell me,” he adds.

But Gabriel is already on it. A touch of his finger and his sigil appears, a striking gold color against the stern black of the collar, engraved in the silicone.

“I don’t want to use that,” the angel says, pointing to the leash.

“Yeah, but you might have to. I was told some of the… _people_ , going to these parties consider every unbound slave they find fair game. I don’t want them to…” he trails off.

“Even with a collar on?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. But they’re demons, for the most part. So I wasn’t exactly surprised to find that out.”

“Hm…”

Thoughtful, Gabriel puts the collar down, eyeing the toys again. His eyes get stuck on the condoms, and for a second Dean could have sworn he saw anger in his eyes.

“Do you really think you’ll need those?”

Dean shrugs. “If you want to let them know you’re serious, you’ll have to share me, eventually. I’d rather it’s with some other slaves than with a demon, you know.”

Gabriel ran a hand on the back of his hair, letting out a long, almost desperate sigh.

“I can’t believe we’ll have to… do all this. I mean... I’ll have to sit back and watch, and pretend I enjoy it while I watch you and some other slaves…” he trails off. “It’s sick. It’s just… sick. I’m scared to find out what’s the actual illegal activity they’ve got going on there…”

Dean hums in agreement.

“I know… me too. And, hm.” He knows he’s going to start fidgeting around if he doesn’t do something so he starts packing everything again. “The ‘watching me get at it with other slaves’ part… it’s gonna be difficult.”

“I wish there was something I could do to prevent it,” Gabriel says, unfolding his legs from under him and sitting properly, “but if it comes to it… you’re right. You’ll have to do it.”

“No, I mean…” Alright, Dean, it’s alright. Happens to everyone. “I mean it’s gonna be… uh…” he looks pointedly toward his crotch and back at the angel, “difficult.”

Gabriel blinks at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t…” he whistles, making a fist and mimicking an erection with his forearm. “You know.”

Gabriel is still frowning.

“I can’t get it up,” Dean adds.

“Yes, thanks, I got that…”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Gabriel speaks again. “And, even with, uh… even Meg couldn’t help?”

“Nope,” Dean answers, looking away.

“And, uh… maybe if you tried with a—“

“Guy or gal, doesn’t change anything. I tried.”

“Okay. Well…” Gabriel starts playing with the cock ring again, absent-mindedly, until he realizes what he’s doing. He pushes the thing away. “You’re right… it can be a problem but… I’ll just say…” he sighs.  “I’m sorry, Dean, but I’ll just have to say that Lucifer broke you and they’ll… they’ll probably believe it.”

Yeah, especially since it’s exactly what happened, Dean thinks. He nods.

“Is that why you wanted me to touch you the other day?”

Dean shrugs. “In part, yeah.”

Gabriel frowns harder, twists his mouth, once, twice, and takes a breath. “D’you wanna try again? Just to be sure,” he adds, when Dean looks up so suddenly he almost breaks a vertebrae.

“I… I-I don’t know.”

“Right, forget it, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not that I don’t want to… it’s… I really don’t know.” They stare at each other for a couple of seconds. “I don’t know if I’d like that or not.”

Gabriel just nods, and waits. Dean needs to think about this, he just can’t give in to the sick little voice in his head telling him that maybe, maybe it’s the solution. Maybe it’ll help. Maybe he needs to bend over for Gabriel because that’s the only thing he’s good at. He shakes his head.

“I’ll go if you need some time alone,” Gabriel whispers.

“No, no, do it. I wanna try it,” Dean says.

Yes, he’ll try, and then he’ll know. He won’t let things go too far, though. He tries not to listen to the voice in his head.

“Are you sure?”

“You’re the one who asked.”

“Okay, fine.”

Gabriel scoots closer, pushing the bags away, until he’s as close to Dean as he dares get. It’s close enough for what he’s about to do, Dean supposes. Dean’s heart is beating a hundred miles an hour, so he tries to breathe through his nose, calm down a little bit.

Closing his eyes, he tries to rely on his senses only. To take in Gabriel’s scent, hear his breathing, hear him move. Really feel the hand landing on Dean’s knee, and lingering there for a few seconds, probably because Gabriel is wondering if it’s okay.

When Dean doesn’t say anything, Gabriel keeps sliding his hand up, slowly, until he reaches the top of Dean’s thigh, then slides down again. His other hand comes up, too, so Dean parts his knees a little, to give him more access. As Gabriel slides his hands up again, Dean can feel his thumbs run on the inside of his thighs. This time, Dean can actually feel the angel’s breath against his face. His heart starts beating faster. There’s a tingle, there, in the pit of his stomach, but it’s close to nothing. Gabriel tries again, but it’s no use.

Dean feels like crying. “Please, stop.”

He opens his eyes at the time Gabriel pulls away, giving him an apologetic look.

“Nothing?”

“No,” Dean sighs. Then he plasters a cocky smile on his face. “I guess it’s like you said, Lucifer broke me, eh.”

Running a hand through his hair, Gabriel looks down, and doesn’t say anything. It would really suck if this evening turned into a pity party, so Dean stands up, stretching his legs, and let’s himself fall on the couch. Looking up, Gabriel sighs. He pulls himself up onto the couch, and gives Dean a tired look.

“So, tell me. What else did you find out?”

 

**_______________________________________________**

 

Goodbyes are always difficult. This time it’s near impossible. Sammy’s giving Dean his best puppy eyes look, but it’s not like it’s gonna do anything good, and he knows it. Everybody takes their turn hugging Dean. Jordan lingers a little more than the others. Meg kisses his neck and whispers in his ear to be careful and come back, whether it’s in one piece or not, which has the merit to make Dean laugh. Sam almost crushes his ribcage, and there’s a tear in his eyes. Dean ignores it.

“Okay, okay, don’t get too emotional, alright,” he says, embarrassed. He pulls on the collar, the sensation still new, but all too familiar at the same time. “We’ll be back soon.”

Gabriel stands next to him, awkwardly waiting for everyone to have their goodbyes with Dean. Only Castiel hugs the archangel, telling him to not forget about his Grace. Gabriel nods, and pretends he’s checking his suitcase while he waits for Dean to be done. Dean doesn’t have any personal stuff. He can’t even bring his gun. It would be too dangerous. But Gabriel keeps an extra angel blade, just in case. For now, Dean’s just wearing his slave clothes and the collar. They’re the only things he’ll have for the whole trip.

Finally, it’s time to go. Dean has barely the time to give his brother one last smile and they’re gone. When they land in the lobby of the hotel, the all too familiar after-effects of angel flight overwhelm him for a second or two.

A blink, and he can see clearly again. The lobby is spacious, richly decorated. The floor is littered with deeply warm brown and crimson colored carpets. There are plants in each corner of the room, in front of every column lining the way to the elevators in the back. On the right, there’s a small space with chairs and coffee tables. On the left is the check-in desk, with two charming hostesses, blond, wearing the same light blue uniform, contrasting vividly with the décor, making them stand out.

Dean breathes in, trying to calm the tremors in his body. The air smells _clean_. Seriously. This all looks like they’re in a perfectly respectable four star hotel, so Dean relaxes a little.

Gabriel walks to the desk, and Dean follows, remembering he has to look obedient. The angel, who’s wearing a full suit, Dean can’t believe it, takes the invite out of his jacket’s inner pocket and slides it across the counter. The Hostess, Blondie Number One, takes it, turning it around. She scans a barcode Dean hadn’t noticed on the back, and throws the thing in the trash when she’s done.

She keeps smiling, her attitude completely professional, as she disappears in the back, and comes back with an electronic key card. She slips it into a plain black card holder. Nothing can be seen or read on the outside, just the light bouncing off the gloss of the stiff paper, and the number of the room discretely printed on the inside. Room two-oh-five. Second floor.

“Take the last elevator on the right,” she says, smiling. “There are special accommodations for the slaves, should you want some time to yourself at any time during your stay. All slaves inside the premises have to wear a special uniform, which you’ll find on your bed. Collars are mandatory. If you need anything, there’s a phone in your room with all the contacts you’ll need on speed-dial. The Hotel’s restaurant is open twenty-four hours every day. We can also provide you with a map of the best restaurants in town, if you wish. If you need a refill for the mini fridge inside your room, just let us know.” Her fake smile grows wider, if it’s even possible, and she opens her mouth again before Gabriel can say anything. “We wish you a good stay, Your Grace, on behalf of all the staff here at the Alchemist Grand Casino Hotel.”

Her voice is annoying, Dean decides. And damn, can she talk fast! Gabriel thanks her, and they follow her instructions. Dean doesn’t dare speak until they’re in the room. He follows Gabriel around, in the elevator, on the second floor in the dimly lit corridors, until they find the door to their room.

And then, Dean can’t really talk for a while because the room is the most awesome thing he’s ever seen. Everything is decorated in different shades of cream and egg whites. The floor is the fluffiest thing he’s ever walked on, and he immediately takes off his shoes, for fear he’ll put some dirt on it. The entrance is made of a small corridor, opening onto a living room, with a black, flat screen TV, a comfy looking sofa in front of a glass coffee table, a small, round table with a single chair in front of it. There’s a console table on the left, next to an open archway that leads way into the bedroom. Dean walks through it, admiring the king size bed, with its deep brown covers and comforter. Inside the room, on the left again, is the door to a giant bathroom. The thing even has a Jacuzzi _embedded in the floor_. There’s also a shower, but no toilets. The room must have been made for angels, he thinks. This is amazing.

He comes back to the main room, where Gabriel is opening the curtains, letting the sun come in through giant glass doors. There’s a balcony. A fucking, giant balcony, the size of Dean’s flat.

“Damn,” is all he can say.

“I know,” Gabriel smiles, opening the mini bar under the TV.

Well, Dean says mini-bar, but it looks like a giant piece of wooden furniture, than opens on the most complete selection of alcoholic beverages Dean’s ever seen. The angel gives him a tired smile, handing him a bottle.

“Beer?”

“Thanks,” Dean answers, taking it from him.

There’s another door that almost looks like a secret door in the side of the entrance corridor, and so Dean pushes it, his nose crinkling at the strong smell of disinfectant coming out of it. He finds the light switch blindly, and barely refrains from cursing when he sees what’s inside.

A kitchen. Like the one in the back of restaurants. Everything someone would need to actually prepare a nice meal, here. In the back, behind a wall, there’s a shower stall. Small. And a toilet. Right before the door, there’s a fridge. Next to it, there’s a… what the fuck is that? A dog mat?

“I think I just found my bed,” he exclaims.

“What? Oh…”

Gabriel stops on the threshold, a glass of whisky in hand. He gives the room a thoughtful look.

“That’s… yeah, no. I won’t sleep. You’ll take the bed, okay?”

Dean shrugs. “Okay. Fine with me.”

He almost runs to the bed again, excited like he hasn’t been in a long while. Gabriel follows, taking in the room. The pristine white dress on the bed stops Dean short.

“What’s that?”

“Your uniform,” Gabriel answers.

He takes a sip of his drink, and pulls the curtains open in here too. Looks like the balcony communicates with this room as well.

“My what? It’s a dress!”

“It’s a tunic. Like ancient romans.”

Dean stares angrily at the _tunic_. Is he seriously going to have to wear that? Fuck.

“You can keep your underwear, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I sure hope so!”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel sighs, “but you have to wear it, here. And you should put it on right now, just in case someone comes in.”

He shrugs when Dean glares at him, and walks to the living room. Putting his beer down on the nightstand, Dean lets out a breath. Right. He’s gonna have to wear a dress. There’s nothing he can do about it. Might has well get used to it.

But he can also enjoy a little bit of comfort before he has to do anything else.

“Hey! Can I use your bathroom?”

“Knock yourself out,” comes Gabriel’s muffled reply. “There’s some of your underwear in the suitcase.”

He sounds like his mouth is full, and Dean can hear the sound of the TV coming on.

“Thanks!”

Dean closes the door, springing to his feet like it’s the morning of Christmas. It’s a bit of a bummer to find out the door has no lock, but he shrugs it off, and turns on the water of the huge Jacuzzi. There’s some bubble bath on the side, so he pours a good bit into the water, and shucks off his clothes.

“Vivaaa Las Vegas,” he half-sings, entering the pool.

God, it’s amazing. He hasn’t taken a bath in… uh, he’s not sure he’s ever taken a bath before. Why hasn’t he taken a bath before? Gabriel had a bathtub in his room. Shit. This is so perfect, he feels all the tension melt off his shoulders, and he lets himself float, head tilted back on the wide rounded sweep of the tub’s edge.

He must have dozed off after a while, because next thing he knows, he opens his eyes and Gabriel’s here, crouching down on the side of the pool, a smirk on his face. Dean almost drowns out of surprise.

He coughs the water out and sits up properly, wiping off the water from his face. “How long’ve you been there?”

“I just came in, don’t worry, I’m not peeping,” Gabriel answers. “But it’s time to come out, now. We’ve got another invitation.”

He hands Dean a towel and leaves the room.

Dean abandons his bath with regret, but now’s not the time to play around. If they had another invite, then that means business. And potentially, some very humiliating things to come for Dean. So he dries off, puts on a new pair of boxers and slips on the white tunic.

Gabriel can say anything he wants, but even on Dean, it still looks like a dress. It goes all the way to his knees, and there’s a… a bow made out of a piece of string hanging on one side of it. It definitely takes away Dean’s good mood from the bath, and he grabs his unopened beer before walking to the balcony, where Gabriel’s waiting, sitting on one of the outside chair.

On the other hand, there’s food in front of him, so maybe Dean’s not as dejected as he first thought.

“I look like a teenager on her first prom,” he says.

Gabriel looks up, ready to laugh, but his mouth falls open and he just stares. It makes Dean feel even worse.

“What?”

Blinking, Gabriel straightens up. “Nothing. It… it suits you. But just… c’mere.”

Dean walks closer, wondering what’s wrong. Gabriel unknots the bow and ties the string around his hips, like a belt. Then he pulls on the fabric, making it flow over the string. Now the tunic’s floating barely above Dean’s knee.

“There.”

Dean turns around, looking at his reflection in the glass door behind him. Yeah, okay. It looks a little bit better.

“Uh, thanks.” Scratching the back of his head to make the uneasiness disappear, he sits in front of Gabriel, popping the cap of his beer open. “So, what’s the new invite about?”

“I don’t really know, that’s the problem,” Gabriel says, clearing his throat.

He hands Dean the invitation. There’s only the name of the hotel on one side, and a hand-written note on the other.

‘ _You are cordially invited to a showing, tonight, in the red room. Bring your Puppy, he might learn some things. C._ ’

“Okay. What does that even mean?”

Gabriel shrugs. “I don’t know. I say we go and observe, like last time. And I should really try to… make some friends.”

Dean looks down at the fruits on the plate in front of Gabriel, and sighs.

“Alright,” he says, grabbing a branch of grapes.

But anxiety seems to tie his stomach in knots, and he can barely swallow a single grape. It’s starting, then. He hopes it’s not gonna be too bad.

 

**_______________________________________________**

 

 

Dean has to go barefoot and sans underwear, thanks to the hotel’s stupid rules. It’s kinda like wearing shorts during a particularly windy day. Kind of refreshing, except if he moves the wrong way, anybody can see his balls.

He tries not to dwell too much on that fact as he kneels next to Gabriel’s chair, in the ‘Red Room’, which actually reminds Dean more of a small concert hall, where tables and chairs have replaced the usual seating. The tables all have a small low red lamp on them. They’re the only lights in the room. Dean thinks maybe it’s a theme, among demons. They like the color red, God only knows why. Could be it reminds them of blood. Who knows with these guys?

His eyes are drawn to the stage. Heavy curtains cover it, in red again, this time overlayed with a darker shade of red. He internally cringes as his brain conjures up images of what display could be lurking behind them. The other patrons in the room seem impatient, and it doesn’t make him feel better. He wonders how Gabriel will respond. Part of him is still wary of the angel, and Dean hopes he’ll be repulsed enough that Dean will be able to silence that part of himself. He knows why they’re here, and he knows it’s for a good reason, but being here, on his knees, makes him uncomfortable and vulnerable. He actually has to fight the urge to get up and leave, tonight. He wonders how he’s going to make it for the three weeks they have to spend here, according to their invitation.

So they’re here, and Gabriel is nursing a drink while they wait for the show to begin. There’s no fear in Dean, but his heart sped up a while ago, and it just won’t calm down. Gabriel is, once again, playing drums with his feet. Dean doesn’t stop him.

The stage curtains finally lift and the classical-type music that’s been playing since they arrived stops. Center stage there’s a giant, transparent dome, perfectly lit. Inside stand two slaves, a man and a woman, both looking like they mean business. They’re naked, which doesn’t really come as a surprise to Dean. Gabriel huffs. He’s probably thinking the same thing Dean is now. Another fight-and-fuck show. Awesome…

He barely restrains a sigh himself, instead tightening his grip on his wrist behind his back, and straightens up. His knees are already sore and he’s only been down there for fifteen minutes. He hopes he’s not gonna get cramps.

The screams of effort of the slaves on stage fill the room, and Dean can’t help but watch them go at each other, fascinated. He can’t really see the details, he’s too far from the stage, but the dome is apparently equipped with microphones and he can hear every sound, down to the smallest intake of breath.

These guys are _professionals_. Dean can see they’re used to this, and they know exactly how to fight each other. There’s no inequality here. And the way they just… dive on each other, the way the woman just sinks on the man’s dick like it’s no effort makes it actually compelling to watch because they seem to enjoy it. Unbelievable.

A few months ago, his body would totally have reacted to the sight, Dean thinks, sadly. He would’ve had the hardest boner just watching them.

“I’m glad you could make it,” says a voice on his left, interrupting his train of thought.

He almost turns to see who it is, but remembers himself at the last moment. He recognizes the voice and the accent anyway. Crowley.  Someone takes a chair from a nearby table and sits on Gabriel’s right, obstructing Dean’s view. There’s another scrape of chair on the floor, and Dean can’t recognize the person in front of him when he peeks at him, so he assumes Crowley sat on the other side of Gabriel. They don’t have any slaves with them, from what Dean can see or hear. Great.

“Crowley,” Gabriel says, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here…”

Crowley laughs, low and somewhat cruel. “This is one of our biggest gathering of the year, someone needs to supervise.”

Gabriel turns to the other guy. Dean can practically feel his eyebrow rising in that smug way of his.

“And you are?”

“Oh, where are my manners,” Crowley exclaims. “Gabriel, this is Val. He’s the one who actually made this possible. He’s the manager of this hotel.”

“Pleasure,” the guy, Val, says.

His voice is like a punch to the gut. Guttural, almost intense. But the slight Slavic accent makes him sound sophisticated somehow.

“You don’t mind if we sit with you, now, do you?”

Dean can hear the smile in Crowley’s voice.

“Of course, not. I’m here, after all, to make acquaintances.”

It’s hard to keep very still when all Dean wants to do is look up and take everything in. But he does, and he starts dreading the moment they’ll start noticing him. Which come way faster than he’d like.

“I see you brought your slave with you, tonight,” Val says.

Gabriel chuckles. “Yes, I thought it’d do him some good to see the show.”

“You can sign him up for it, there’s one every night,” Crowley chimes in.

“I’ll think about it.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean see a waitstaff coming to their table. There’s the sound of plates and cutlery being set down. Then they’re gone.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you, I hope you don’t mind,” Crowley says.

“Thank you,” Gabriel answers.

His foot starts tapping furiously against the floor again. Something’s making him uncomfortable. Dean understands what it is when Val’s hand comes to gently push under his chin, lifting his head up. Dean tries to avoid looking him in the eyes.

“He’s a thing of beauty.” He turns Dean’s head, left and right, assessing him, then looks up at Gabriel. “May I?”

May he what, Dean doesn’t get it right away. Not until Gabriel hums in agreement and Val let’s go of him, before the angel barks an “Up!” in a commanding tone.

Dean does what he’s told in one smooth motion, keeping his hands behind his back. For a blessed moment, he almost forgot he wasn’t wearing underwear. Now it’s all he can think about. Crowley sits back in his chair, crossing one leg on the other and watches. Val lifts his hand almost reverently, running his knuckles on the side of Dean’s arm.

His touch gets firmer when he reaches Dean’s hip, and his hand slides under Dean’s tunic, full on groping the meat of his ass. Dean remembers to breathe. Breathe, relax the face, breathe, relax the mouth, breathe, relax, breathe. He can’t allow himself to react, for his sake and Gabriel’s.

“Beautiful…” Val says.

There’s a sort of AC breeze going around and suddenly, as a small gush of air grazes his butt, Dean’s very aware that he’s probably flashing everyone behind him. He can’t blush, though. He can’t. _Breathe, Dean_.

Gabriel must have given the guy a look because Val smiles, indulgent, and takes his hand away.

“Down,” Gabriel almost growls.

Dean kneels down again, relieved. They start eating, and soon the smell hits Dean and he remembers he only ate like two grapes today. Shit. The dish smells delicious. He wonders what it is.

“I understand this is your first time attending one of our little… conventions,” Val starts again as he eats, “maybe you’d like to start off in a more private setting before you discover our other services?”

“That would be… nice, yes.”

“Although I wouldn’t bring your boy, the first time around. Crowley tells me you’re very protective of him.”

Crowley huffs. “That he is.”

“You can hardly blame me,” Gabriel answers. And now he’s pissed. “After what my brother did to him…”

“We understand,” Val says. “But honestly, all our patrons are screened and approved, you don’t have anything to fear from them. They wouldn’t do anything you don’t want them to.”

Gabriel takes a bite of his meat before he answers.

“It’s not that. Thanks to my brother, he is… deficient, now. I’m working on it but it’s proven difficult. Lucifer’s been very thorough in his attempt to break him.”

Deficient. That’s one word for it. Impotent, that one hurts the most. But deficient, yeah. It encompasses every feeling Dean’s had ever since he realized his libido was gone. That’s a nice choice of word there.

“It happens to plenty of slaves at the beginning, believe me,” Crowley says. “I’ll have you sent some treats to remedy to that.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Crowley chuckles, but is interrupted by a loud moan coming from the scene. Dean can’t see shit, so he can only imagine what’s happening. Sounds like the woman’s winning. Good for her, Dean thinks. He hopes the loser doesn’t get punished, though. Seems like the kind of things demons would do.

After that, the conversation between the demons and Gabriel is quieter. Their talk is… well, mundane is one word for it. It doesn’t help understanding what the hell is going on in this hotel, beside the fact that the high ranking people in this place organize some private parties, as they call them, where they basically violate slaves in the privacy of their own room. Dean’s glad they don’t want him to come to the one Gabriel’s been invited to tonight.

He’s very happy when the show draws to an end. He hopes they’ll be able to go back to their room soon, because he’s more than starving now. The dishes just kept coming, making Dean drool with envy whenever he could take a peek at the food. The dessert was the last blow. Gabriel is putting the last piece into his mouth and Dean comes to regret this cake he’ll never have tasted. It looked so fluffy, light, with a chocolate sauce delicately draped over the top. Dean is convinced by the end of dinner that it probably tasted like heaven and he missed the cake of his life.

Thankfully the demons leave as the plates are being cleared. Finally, they can go back to their room. They take the red elevator, the one that’s almost hidden at the other end of the corridor that leads to their room. Dean assumes it’s a sort of secret passage. He had an inkling they were put up in a special wing of the hotel, and the red elevator only confirmed it.

Once inside, Dean throws himself on the couch, groaning loudly. His knees are killing him. He feels like he could eat a whole friggin’ cow. Gabriel seems to be occupying himself fine. Maybe when Dean manages to sit up again, because the sofa’s pillows are so soft he could stay here for days, he’ll ask him to order something from room service.

“Sit up,” Gabriel exclaims, pushing Dean’s feet away and taking a spot on the sofa.

“Why?”

“Come on, or I’ll make you.”

Huffing, Dean pushes himself up, glaring at Gabriel. He’s holding something in his hand, which Dean first think is lube, and it makes him want to slap himself when he realizes it’s hand cream.

“For your knees,” the angel simply says. “Don’t give me that look. I saw how you were walking when we came back here. I’m offering a massage.”

“You gonna massage my knees?”

“Yeah, why not? Just the knees, I promise.”

Dean falls on his back, settling against the cushions and offering Gabriel his legs.

“Fine.”

Opening the cap of the bottle of hand cream, Gabriel spreads a good amount on both of Dean’s knees. Dean groans again at the first press of hands on his skin. Okay, this was a good idea.

“So you’re gonna go to that, uh, private party?”

Gabriel twists his mouth in disgust. “Yeah. I don’t think I have much of a choice, anyway. But I think getting close to that Val guy could be useful.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

Dean tries to find something else to say. It’s not that the silence is uncomfortable, but Gabriel is touching him, and it’s totally not sexual. It’s just weird. Dean doesn’t get what Gabriel’s trying to do, but at least the angel doesn’t look like he’s doing it to get in Dean’s pants.

Gabriel beats him to it. “Is this okay? You tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Dean clears his throat. “No, it’s fine… thanks.”

And it is fine. Really. Gabriel knows exactly what he’s doing, and Dean’s knees aren’t hurting anymore. He can feel the muscles in his thighs relax, too. It’s good.

“Dean, I’m sorry… I had to let him touch you, or else…”  The angel avoids Dean’s eyes, keeps his own on Dean’s knees.

“I know. It’s okay, I knew you wouldn’t let him go too far.”

Gabriel stops what he’s doing, and smiles, looking up. “Good.”

He stands up, wiping his hands on his pants. “And now I need to get ready,” he sighs.

It looks more like he’s going to his own beheading than to a party. Dean can get why. He wants to sympathize, he truly does, but his stomach growls loudly, reminding him he hasn’t eaten in hours.

“Hey, can you order a pizza or something before you go?”

Gabriel laughs, and, apologizing for forgetting about Dean, he phones room service. At least Dean’ll have the night alone, in a great hotel room, with a great pizza. What is there not to like about this?

 

 

**_______________________________________________**

The pizza was awesome. The TV was, and still is, awesome. The bed is the most awesomest thing that ever was created. Dean spent a great night, overall, and he really hopes he’ll keep having nights like this, because seeing the face Gabriel’s making this morning as they’re both sitting outside, he knows the party was something else.

“So, how was it,” Dean yawns, stealing the coffee cup Gabriel just finished.

He pours himself a good amount and steals some of Gabriel’s orange juice. Obviously, they’re not going to serve the slaves around here. Apparently, Dean is expected to clean the dishes before they give the room service’s tray back.

“Uh, disgusting, for the most part,” the angel answers.

He’s reading the day’s newspaper. Dean suspects it’s because he’s trying to avoid looking him in the eyes.

“And?”

“And nothing. It was…” Gabriel sighs, putting the newspapers down. “It was weird. But it was nothing illegal, nothing you wouldn’t find in any adult bar.”

“I’ll have to go through one of those soon, won’t I?”

Gabriel gives him a look. “I’m afraid so…”

Dean opens his mouth to ask exactly what he’ll have to do when there’s a knock at the door. It’s so unexpected that for a moment, they just stare at each other, until the sound of the door opening reaches them. Dean almost throws himself on the floor next to Gabriel, his knees hitting the ground hard. The angel fumbles with his newspaper, opening it on a random page, just in time to greet the hotel courier who’s walking through the main room, looking shy and lost. When he gets outside, Dean sees he’s carrying a basket full of what looks like a butt load of little chocolates in red wrappings.

“Excuse-me, Your Grace, I’ve-I’ve been asked to bring you this.”

Gabriel gestures for him to put it down on the table. The boy does, and just stands there, unsure of himself.

“Thank you,” Gabriel tells him, an eyebrow raised.

The boy nods, and almost runs out of the room. Dean half moans in pain, his knees throbbing as he stands up and sits again. Great, he scrapped his knees.

Gabriel takes the card sitting in the middle of the chocolates, opens it, snorts and tears it in half.  Standing up, he throws the pieces of card on the table.

Dean watches him, curious. “Who’s it from?”

“Don’t touch them. I’m gonna take a bath.”

The only answer Dean can give him is a huff as he crosses his arms across his chest. He waits until he hears the bathroom door closing before he picks up a chocolate, opening the wrapping carefully. Dean doesn’t see why Gabriel is the one who gets all the treats. He missed the cake yesterday, he’s surely not going to miss these beauties.

The chocolate melts in his mouth as soon as it touches his tongue and a pleasured sigh leaves his mouth. Shit, that’s some high class chocolate, right here. He doesn’t want Gabriel to notice he ate some, though, so he carefully eats three more and hides the wrappings in the bottom of the basket.

When Gabriel gets out of his bath, hair wet and looking refreshed, Dean’s reading the newspaper. When he looks up, smiling, because he doesn’t know why but he feels pretty good right now, Gabriel freezes.

“Tell me you didn’t eat the chocolates.”

Dean laughs. “What if I did? You wanted to keep them all to yourself?”

“Dean!!”

“What?”

The angel runs up to him, looking inside the basket like he can see just like that how many he’s missing.

“How many did you eat?”

“Why?”

“Because,” Gabriel exclaims, picking the card up and waving it at Dean’s face, “Crowley sent them! They’re like… like… magical Viagra!”

It’s Dean’s turn to freeze. “What?” He stares at the chocolates for a second before turning to the angel again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did!!”

“No! You went all ‘don’t touch the chocolates, Dean’. It’s like code for ‘please steal my chocolates while I’m not looking, Dean’!”

Gabriel scoffs. They stare at each other for a while, and Dean feels, with sudden clarity, that what he’s been feeling is not contentment. It’s the beginning of arousal.

“Shit!”

“How many did you eat?”

Dean runs a hand over his mouth. “Uh, four?”

“Okay, well… you’ll just have to… uh, wait until the effects are gone, I guess.”

“You guess?”

As if Gabriel talking about it summoned the effects of the chocolates, Dean feels a very distinct gush of arousal twisting his guts. His blood rushes to his dick in less time than he’d need to say ‘fuck!’, leaving him dizzy. It’s so powerful it takes his breath away for a second. When he looks down at himself, he feels a bead of sweat slowly drip down his brow.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Okay, just… the bathroom’s all yours if you need to… take care of that,” Gabriel tells him.

He’s embarrassed, Dean can tell. The thing is, Dean’s so horny he doesn’t give a single fuck. He shreds his tunic in the middle of the living room, and doesn’t even care if Gabriel can see. He runs to the bathroom.

 

 

**_______________________________________________**

“Everything going all right in there?”

Dean groans, hands on his dick as he furiously tries to bring himself to completion for the third time in God knows how long. Gabriel’s voice brings him back to reality for a minute. He probably lost time. It feels like he’s been in the shower for hours. The water’s still perfectly warm, though.

“No,” he breathes, desperate.

He can hear that Gabriel is in the room, but he can’t bring himself to care. He has his back to him, so all the important parts of Dean are hidden from Gabriel’s sight. He can’t take his hand off of himself. Just thinking about it makes him want to cry.

“Uh, okay. Well…”

“Fuck,” Dean exclaims.

He can feel the orgasm drawing near, but it’s actually making everything worse. He’s so horny he feels like he’s running a fever. He knows he lost time in here. He has to have been in there for at least a couple hours.

“Maybe you should try another method,” Gabriel suggests.

But Dean’s not listening anymore. He comes with a shout, long stripes of white hitting the tiles in front of him. His dick twitches in his hand, still fully erect, hard as a rock. It _hurts_. He keeps stroking himself, slower this time, while he tries to look over his shoulder.

“How long’ve I been in here?”

“Half an hour.”

He almost whines hearing this. Fuck, only half an hour, what is he gonna do? What if it never goes away? He regrets every single thought he ever had since he came back from Lucifer about wanting to have a healthy libido again. He takes it back. It sucks. It sucks, big time!

“Okay, get out of there, Dean. We’ll find something else, alright? Just get out of the shower.”

It’s the chocolates, Dean assumes, that compel him to obey Gabriel. Reluctantly, he steps out. The angel’s already gone. He picks up a towel, letting go of his dick, just enough time to get dry, but he has to take it back in hand as soon as he’s done. Shit, he’s so hot all over, so fucking horny he feels like it’s going to last forever and he’ll have to spend his life with a hand on his dick and something in his ass.

Something in his ass.

The thought sets his body on fire. That’s it. That’s what he needs right now. A big, fat cock to fill his hole. God. He wants it so bad it makes his head spin. His legs carry him to the bed, but that’s all the effort he’s willing to make. He can’t do anything besides pull on his dick like his life depends on it as he flops on the bed.

“Gabriel,” he groans.

“I’m right here,” comes the answer, way too far for Dean’s taste.

“Help.”

The sound of footstep coming close is a relief, and Dean clings to Gabriel’s voice like it’s his only connection to the world.

“What do you need?”

Dean huffs. Doesn’t he get it?

“You,” he whispers.

With great effort, he lifts himself up, letting go of his dick. Gabriel is close, so Dean pulls him closer until he can hump his leg.

“Dean, no,” Gabriel says, hesitant.

He looks scared but Dean doesn’t give two shits. The angel pushes him away, keeping him at arms’ length, and Dean whines.

“Please, fuck me!”

“No! Dean, it’s the spell talking, not you. You don’t want it.” Gabriel sighs. “You don’t want me.”

“I do, please, Gabriel, please, I need—“

“I said no,” Gabriel states, final, pushing him on the bed.

Dean lands on his back. His hand comes up almost by itself to touch his dick again. He needs friction, and he needs something in his ass right now. He turns on his belly, using all the strengths he has left to lift his butt, holding himself on his knees as he jerks off with one hand, and pushes a finger inside himself with the other, groaning.

Maybe, if he gives Gabriel a good show, the angel will have no choice but to take him, hard and fast.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Gabriel breathes.

When Dean opens an eyes and look at him, he sees the angel’s all flushed. Good. Gabriel tries to hand him the lube but Dean can’t take his hands off himself. He just can’t. He tries to push another finger in but everything’s too dry and it’s not working.

Gabriel sighs. “Heavens, give me the strength…” he mumbles, before walking away from Dean’s line of sight.

Dean can hear him behind him, and he thinks, finally, finally he’s doing it! But the only thing he feels is lube suddenly dripping between his ass cheeks and onto his balls, and Gabriel walks away. It’s a relief, his fingers finally slipping right in where he wants them. He’s still disappointed, though.

He needs Gabriel’s dick. He needs to ride him into oblivion.

“Here,” Gabriel tells him, throwing something on the bed next to him.

A fucking dildo.

“I don’t want that, I want your dick in me, now,” Dean almost growls.

“Well, good luck with that,” Gabriel answers, and his voice is getting farther and farther away from Dean. “I’m gonna go try my luck at the casino while you… you know. I’ll come back in a few hours.”

And the door slams shut before Dean can protest. Shit. Shit, he’s gonna have to make do with plastic, now, isn’t he? He doesn’t care. He needs to be full.

He keeps working himself open as quickly as he can. He can feel the discomfort when he pushes the black piece of silicone inside of him fast, but his brain doesn’t register it. It’s so good, so good he wants to weep. The thing has a sort of branch protruding from the base, just long enough to press against his perineum every time he pushes the thing inside. And there’s a bonus; it vibrates, and it has three settings.

It’ll do, he thinks as he turns it on and sparks fly behind his eyelids. It’ll have to do.

 

 

**_______________________________________________**

When the door opens again, Dean barely hears it. He feels like he’s been on the bed forever, coming and coming and coming and he thinks he’s seeing the end of it. Just another orgasm or two, and he’ll be good. He knows it. He’s so tired, hurting everywhere, the only thing he wants to do is sleep. But he can’t.

He’s aware there’s someone in the living room, but he can’t lift his head. He’s lying on his belly, head at the foot of the bed, humping the sheets as a plug buzzes in his ass. Gabriel’s been shopping, too. This plug has a remote, and it has seven settings from what Dean could read. He only managed to turn it on before he sent the remote flying, not on purpose, obviously, and now he’s stuck here, he’s been trying to come for what seems like hours and he can’t anymore. He wants to get the remote back, get the plug on full vibrations, but it’s too far away from the bed. He doesn’t think he can get up anymore.

“Please,” he croaks.

He holds out his hand in the direction he saw the remote fall, and waits. Gabriel comes close, and sighs. He takes in the sight as he enters the bedroom, Dean, completely wrecked on the bed, the whole bag of toys on the floor, from when Dean tried to find something else when the dildo wasn’t enough anymore. The empty, half torn box of the plug, from when Dean found it and desperately tried to get it out of its package. The bottle of lube, already half empty on the bed, and the one Dean emptied, on the floor next to the remote.

Dean can see Gabriel’s feet where he stops, he sees the angel’s hand when he bends over to pick up the remote. And then he stops. He keeps the remote in hand, turning it around like he’s thinking about something. Dean huffs, too tired to yell at him. Gabriel almost takes a step forward, already handing the remote to Dean, but he steps back suddenly. What is he doing?

He turns around, and Dean almost cries as he watches Gabriel walk toward the mini bar. But suddenly the plug buzzes faster, pulling a surprised moan out of him. He sees the angel bend over the bar, the setting of the toy increasing again, and Dean’s gone. He closes his eyes and focuses on humping the sheets as fast as his body will allow. The only thing he can hear are the quiet gasps he’s making, having screamed himself hoarse before, now he can’t really let out any sound. He’s sweating like crazy again, he feels it run down his back to the crack of his ass. He must smell like shit, but he can’t care about that, not now that everything’s perfect again, not with the intense pleasure coursing through his body, making his ears ring.

He comes with a silent scream, eyes screwed shut. It’s as powerful as all the other orgasms were before, and when it recedes, when he’s come down enough to open his eyes, the plug has stopped buzzing and everything’s orange.

He frowns, waiting for his vision to focus on the thing in front of him. Gabriel’s holding a glass of orange juice in front of his face, insistent. Tiredly, Dean just puts his mouth on the rim of the glass and lets Gabriel help him drink. When he’s done, Gabriel takes the glass away, and puts the remote down next to him.

“W-wait,” Dean tries.

He hears the noise the glass makes as it’s put down on the nightstand, and Gabriel appears in his line of vision again. Unable to say another word, Dean just grabs the remote and hands it to the angel. Gabriel hesitates, but barely for a second. He takes the remote, and stays there, maybe waiting for a sign that he’s not understanding this wrong.

“Again,” Dean pleads.

He’s already rolling his hips again, trying to find some friction. The wet spot under him reminds him he just came, but he can’t move just yet. He doesn’t care. The bed is covered in come and lube and sweat and God knows what else. Dean’s in the same state as the sheets. It’s no use worrying about that now.

Disappearing again, Gabriel comes back with a chair from the living room. He sits in the corner of the room, as far from the bed as possible. The remote is still in his hand, and Dean focuses on it, focuses on how Gabriel’s thumb grazes the surface of it, barely touching the button.

“Stop moving,” Gabriel says.

And Dean does. His whole body shivers, the urge to find pleasure again overwhelming, but he waits, a thrill of excitement running through him. He tracks every movement Gabriel makes, until finally he turns the plug on. Dean’s hands come to grip at the sheets tight on both sides of his head. He can’t help bucking his hips, and when Gabriel doesn’t say anything, he starts moving in earnest. The vibrations increase again, going up two of three settings at once, before receding again. A strangled, desperate cry of protest leaves Dean’s mouth.

“Turn around.”

It’s hard, but Dean manages, the unexpected turn of events making him forget his exhaustion for a second. When he’s on his back, the vibrations get stronger again, and he sighs. He grabs his dick, stroking as slowly as he can.

“That’s it, slow,” Gabriel says. He’s out of breath. “Take your time, make it count.”

In a haze of want and need, Dean still manages to hear that the angel’s speech is a bit slurred. He’s probably a bit drunk, which explains a few things. But the plug buzzes harder again, taking all of Dean’s thoughts away. His back arches off the bed, his toes curling with tension. The sensations are too much, the plug too harsh against his abused skin, but the pleasure is still here, still constant, and it’s perfect. There’s the sound of flesh on flesh behind him, and he knows exactly what Gabriel’s doing. It fuels his desire, sending flows of electric pleasure through his body. He’s panting now, since he can’t get a sound out, a litany of ‘oh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ leaving his mouth without pause.

Gabriel’s breathing gets harsher, too, and the plug suddenly slows down.

“Sit up, on the edge of the bed.”

Groaning again, because he was close, Dean obeys anyway. He can see the angel now. Gabriel has his dick out, barely, just enough so he can run his hand up and down his length. The only clue he had a drink is in his eyes, a sort of drunken intensity to his gaze as he takes in the sight in front of him. When Dean sits up properly, it pushes the plug up his ass and makes him gasp.

The plug starts buzzing again. With his feet on the ground like this, Dean can actually rock his hips better, making the plug shift inside of him. The hand on his dick tightens, he strokes himself again, leaning back with a hand on the mattress to find the right angle for the plug. When he finds it, his vision blackens, and he has to close his eyes. The buzzing intensify without warning and Dean thinks it must be on the last setting because it’s vibrating so hard he can barely feel it. All he knows is there’s a warm bubble of pleasure inside of him, growing and growing to the point he thinks he might faint from it.

His mouth is making sounds without his consent again, but he’s way past caring. When he comes it punches the breath out of him, and he keeps swallowing air with each wave of his orgasm like he’s drowning.

Relief crashes over him when he’s finally done. The plug keeps buzzing, low now, and he sort of protests weakly, jumping a bit every time the plug moves inside him. When he looks toward Gabriel, the angel has his mouth open, panting too, a last drop of come dripping from the tip of his dick as he squeezes it out of himself. The vibrations stop.

Unable to stay sitting anymore, Dean falls on his back, wriggling, wrestling with himself until he can get the plug out and throw it on the side of the bed. He’s still hard, but not as much as he was before, so he’s pretty sure it can wait until he’s slept a bit. He crawls up the bed, burying under the comforter. The bed is soft. It’s easy to fall asleep. He doesn’t even notice he does, his body overcome with exhaustion.

He doesn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that chapter! Now, the third thing I wanted to tell you is this: I'm sorry to say that I'm going to publish once every two weeks, now. On monday, as usual, but my beta needs a bit of time, and if I want to keep posting regularly then I need some, too. So, be patient, and see you in two weeks :)


	4. Foxy Lady

# CHAPTER 4 : Foxy Lady

 

Dean wakes up groggy and sore, with a half-erection that he can thankfully control long enough to hop into the shower. He jerks off as quickly as he can. It’s enough for his body, which seems to have calmed down. He’s happy about that, even though he blushes a bit thinking about what happened before he fell asleep.

But he can’t really blame Gabriel. The guy’s been a real gentleman about everything. Dean needs to thank him for not jumping his bones when he kinda lost his mind and started begging for the angel’s dick. It’s a miracle Gabriel held on for that long, to be honest. Dean didn’t believe he had that in him.

Anyway, today is a new day, as they say, so Dean puts his tunic on, and wanders into the living room. Nobody’s here. It’s weird, but Dean isn’t that worried about it, since he can see a note sitting on the table, Gabriel’s tiny handwriting discernable even from the archway that leads out of the bedroom.

He takes the note, reading it with interest.

‘ _I made you breakfast to apologize for last night. I don’t know what got into me. But since I’m a coward, I’m going to hide downstairs for a while and let you eat in peace. I might go back to the casino as well, so I’ll probably be back in the afternoon. I won’t drink this time._

 _~~I’m s~~ _ _Please don’t be too mad. We’ll talk when I come back._

 _Sorry_.’

Dean huffs a laugh.

He finds his breakfast outside, waiting for him. Scrambled eggs and bacon, a glass of orange juice, and enough coffee to last him the day. It’s not the greatest breakfast he’s had, but Gabriel actually made it, with his own hands, the state of the kitchen proved he did, so Dean thinks he ought to finish it.

When he’s done, he decides to tidy up the room a bit. Thankfully, all the toys are gone already. Gabriel probably put them back in their bag. After cleaning them, Dean hopes.

 The bed is disgusting, probably full of crusted jizz and whatnot, so Dean decides to start with that. He gets to work, stripping the bed and pillows. Thing is, there’s not a trace of clean linen to put back on the bed, and after checking every single drawer in the room, he gives the phone a helpless look. He’s gonna have to phone room service, isn’t he?

The first ring makes him nauseous. He’s not sure he can call, but if he says his Master told him to, surely they won’t be too mad? A woman picks up after the third ring, voice all professional at the other end of the line.

“Room service, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, hi,” Dean says, nervous. “I’m… I’m in room two-oh-five, I’m… with the Archangel Gabriel. I’m his slave.” Silence. “So, uh… I need to clean the room, change the bed, you know, but I can’t find clean sheets?”

“I’ll send someone to you.”

And she hangs up. Dean stares at the receiver like it personally offended him. What is wrong with people, seriously? So because he’s a slave he doesn’t get a ‘goodbye’? He doesn’t have time to get too angry, though, because there’s a knock at the door. When he opens it, there’s a petite Asian woman standing there, wearing the standard slave uniform, a collar with the logo of the hotel printed on it, and a name tag pinned to her chest. _Julie_.

“Hi,” she says, smiling. She looks nice. “I heard you needed a hand?”

“Yeah…” Dean answers, stepping aside so she can come in.

She goes straight to the living room as Dean closes the door.

“So, what’s your problem?”

“I need clean sheets for the bed.”

“Okay!” She goes straight for the cupboard in the entrance, taking a bag out of it. “This is the laundry bag for this room. See, it has the number of the room on it?” Dean nods when he sees it. “So,” she goes on, walking to the bedroom. “You put your dirty laundry in there,” she picks up what Dean left on the floor as she speaks, “and you take it downstairs, to the laundry room.”

“The… okay…”

Dean hesitates, and she sees it. How was he supposed to know he had to do all that?

“First time outside your Master’s house?”

He nods. “That obvious, uh?”

“Don’t worry,” she smiles, “you’ll get the hang of it. It’s the same system in almost every hotel, so once you know the rules here, you’ll be good to go everywhere. Come with me.”

He follows her outside the room, to a door next to the elevators that says ‘personnel only’. She pushes the door, giving way to a flight of stairs. Going down, she keeps chatting at him.

“You should know that’s where you have to go to bring back the dishes, too. You’ll find a basin under your sink, to carry everything.”

When they reach the level that says ‘basement’, she leads him through a door, opening on a giant kitchen. Dean keeps following, trying to memorize where everything is. It’s difficult to do that while she keeps talking to him. The other slaves in the room glance at him, but don’t pay them much attention.

“Here’s where you put the dishes from the rooms,” she indicates a shelf full of plates, “and the laundry room is right here.”

On the other side of the kitchen, there’s an opening leading to a room full of washing machines and dryers. She opens his bag of dirty laundry, and empties it in a bin that says ‘laundry’. Everything is still logical, so far. There are shelves full of drapes, sheets, and clothes of all sorts, including the employees’ uniforms. Julie takes a few things off the shelves, until the bag is almost full.

“Is that the tunic they first gave you when you came in?”

He nods, too busy looking around to really answer.

“Okay, then,” she takes a pile of tunics from the shelves, “here you go. Don’t hesitate to come down here if you need a change.”

“Thanks,” he says, finally looking at her.

“Oh, there are beds here, if your Master wants you out, he just has to call a bit beforehand and sign you up for one on the day you need it.”

“Okay.”

“So, that’s it, I think. Did you need anything else?”

“I… don’t think so, thanks.”

“I’ll let you go back to your room, then. It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Dean says, turning away from her.

Then something occurs to him.

“Hey, Julie?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t… I don’t have a key to my room.” Shit, he’s so stupid. Why didn’t he think of that before? He never had to think about that. Usually he’s the one the clerk gives the key to. And they’re real keys, not those card pieces of crap.

She ends up going up with him again, opening the door for him with her pass.

“You can ask your Master for a key, if he needs you to do your chores while he’s away, I don’t think he’ll say no.”

“I’ll do that, thanks,” he says again.

She waves at him and goes back the way she came. Dean sighs as he closes the door. Being a slave is complicated. But everybody who works here seems okay, at least. And if he thought he could find a clue that something weird or bad was happening downstairs, he’s out of luck. Everything was squeaky clean. At least there’s something he can tell Gabriel, now.

He’s useful. All that being-poisoned-by-sex-chocolates business wasn’t for nothing, in the end. It makes him breathe easier, somehow, feeling lighter than he was when he first woke up.

 

**\---------------------------------------------**

 

Gabriel comes back by the end of the afternoon, dragging his feet into the room like a kid who knows his mother is going to yell at him because he put mud all over his Sunday clothes. Dean just stares at him from the couch where he’s been watching TV, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Are we gonna talk or are you gonna walk around all night, pretending you don’t see me?”

“Can I get back to you on that when I decide which solution is best?”

“Come on,” Dean coos, straightening up, “it’s okay, I’m not mad at you.”

“Yeah well, that’s stupid of you,” Gabriel answers, finally walking to the couch and flopping down on it, as far from Dean as is physically possible.

He plays with his hands for a while, before looking up.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s fine. You did everything right, don’t worry.”

“But I shouldn’t have… you know…” Gabriel trails off.

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, well. I threw myself at you, and, yes, I’m ashamed of that. Thank you for saying no, by the way. Seriously, that was a good call. So, you know, I can get that it… uh, it turned you on a little. I mean…” he scoffs, looking down at himself. Gabriel laughs, which was what Dean was aiming at. “And if you wanted to beat one off while I was there dying of too many orgasms, who am I to be mad at you, uh? It’s fine. We’re fine, really.”

Gabriel blinks at him. “You really mean that.”

“Yeah. Now shuddup I’m trying to watch some TV.”

“There’s else something I need to tell you.”

Glaring at him, Dean turns the sound of the TV off.

“Okay…”

“I signed you up for one of the shows… tomorrow night.”

Surprised, Dean doesn’t answer right away. He considers it, and sees that it scares the shit out of him.

“So soon?”

Gabriel shrugs. “The occasion presented itself…”

“Alright… alright. Okay, it’ll be another occasion to talk to the other slaves, right?”

“Right.”

With a shrug, trying to be nonchalant, Dean turns the sound on again. So that’s it. Show’s beginning. Dean hopes it’ll help them find out something, anything. Anything to make it worth it.

 

 ** **\---------------------------------------------****  

 

That evening, when Gabriel and Dean go down to eat and watch the show, Dean’s more than nervous. He wants to see everything that happens in that friggin’ dome, to know what to expect at least.

By the end of Gabriel’s dinner, he still doesn’t understand the rules. How do they know who wins or loses? Seems like in that kind of game, nobody really loses, anyway. He stops paying attention when he hears Gabriel’s tapping his foot next to where Dean’s kneeling. Looking up, he gives the angel a curious look.

“I’m bored,” Gabriel whispers to him. “Can we leave now?”

Dean looks pointedly toward the scene, trying to move his eyes only. Doesn’t Gabriel get that he wants to be a little bit more informed before he dives head first into those friggin’ fights? What if the losers are punished? What if Gabriel can’t say a thing about it? What if he has to give the punishment in front of everybody? Dean doesn’t want to tempt fate.

Gabriel sighs exaggeratedly.

“Fine…”

He drops his head into his hand, elbow on the table, and glares at the stage.

“Your Grace?”

Oh, what is it now? Dean’s not going to be able to watch the fights till the end of the show, now, is he? He tries to see what the courier who’s handing Gabriel an envelope. It’s not the same guy that brought them the chocolates. This one looks a little bit surer of himself.

Taking the envelope from him, Gabriel thanks him. The kid bows and leaves. Gabriel clears his throat and reads the message out loud.

“ **Congratulation!**

**It is an honor for us to know that you chose our show for your slave to develop his or her skills. Of course, there are rules they’ll have to follow :**

**\- All slaves are to be clean when they present to the fighting area**  
**\- Collars have to be taken off to avoid injuries. It is advised that their owners put a mark on them, even a temporary one, for the occasion. The Alchemist Grand Casino Hotel does not take responsibility for any theft or loss of slaves.**  
 **\- No biting allowed while on the scene. Likewise, any attempt to permanently mark an adversary will mean the disqualification of the slave. Furthermore, by filling out the sign-up sheet, you gave the Hotel permission to give the appropriate punishment, according to extend of the injuries sustained by the other slave. It is possible that in reparation, your fellow owners will be allowed to give the punishment themselves.**  
 **\- Bets may be placed on the fights. The winner takes a percentage from the Hotel’s gains on the fight. Be sure to place your bets well!**  
 **\- We do not punish slaves who lose, but the owners who want to do so are welcome to the fighting areas after the fights, where public punishments are held every night.**

 **We wish you a great fight,  
Sincerely** ,”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s promising…”

He goes to put the letter back in its envelope when another piece of paper falls from it. Dean picks it up, and read it quickly before giving it to Gabriel.

‘ _Dear Gabriel,_

_I enjoyed our evening together. I would love to do it again. I think it would be good for your slave to witness one of our little gatherings. According to our rules, we’d need to come to your room. Would you be agreeable to it? How does Thursday sound for you? Please let me know as soon as possible,_

_Regards_ ,

 _Val_.’

Gabriel gives Dean a look that says something like ‘I’m so sorry Dean but I don’t really have a choice, I need to say yes, so please be okay with this’. Dean feels like punching him in the face, suddenly. It’s weird. Hadn’t happen in a long time. He shrugs again. Whatever. Maybe they’ll learn something from it.

Gabriel hails a courier, writes a quick reply, and sends the boy with his answer away.

Dean starts watching the fight again.

 

 **\---------------------------------------------**  

 

So here he is, standing in line with the other participants, waiting for his turn to enter the dome and fight.

He spent the afternoon sulking about it. He couldn’t help it. He was scared, still is, and the only way to let out a bit of steam was to snap at Gabriel every time he tried to reassure Dean. It didn’t stop Gabriel from sitting as close as he could to the stage so Dean could spot him in the crowd. Which is nice, Dean is willing to admit it. He doesn’t know how he’ll react to having to fuck someone in front of a room full of people.

He’s been paired with a woman, pretty, dark skinned with incredibly beautiful brown eyes and dark, curly hair. She’s holding herself proudly, looking down on him like she’s going to eat him alive.

“First time?”

Dean eyes her and nods. She chuckles and offers him her hand.

“Cassie.”

“Dean,” he answers, shaking it.

One of the slaves’ handlers comes to them, tossing a chocolate their way. Dean looks at it and feels something sink in his chest. He can’t eat that, not after what happened the other time.

Cassie elbows him.

“You already had some?”

“No,” he lies.

Nobody needs to know about that.

“Well, don’t worry. It’s not as strong as they say it is. If you take them one at a time, that is. You should take it just when the couple before us go on stage, and you’ll be good.”

“Okay…”

“Ten minutes,” someone announces in the background.

Dean takes a breath. They’re the last in line, so that means he’ll have to wait for a while. He still has a bit of time to try and make the anxiety twisting his guts go away.

Another of the handlers is going through the line, giving the slaves all the things they’ll need for the fight. It includes condoms for the men, apparently, and lube for those who fight against other guys. Great. Dean’s stomach lurches.

“There you go, Honey,” the guy says when he gets to them both, handing Cassie a strap-on.

He gives Dean a smirk, and gives him a condom, three packs of lube and a plug.

“Get ready now or it’s gonna hurt, boy,” he tells him before moving on.

Bending forward, Dean looks at the others slaves. None of the women who’ve been paired with a guy have what Cassie just got. What the fuck?

“How come you get a special toy?”

She gives him a full throated laugh and wriggles the strap-on at him.

“Someone must like you up there,” she answers. “We don’t often have accessories, and we’re going last, which means they knew I’d kick your ass and they’ll get a good show.”

It’s just his luck. Must be Val, he thinks. The guy does seem to have an obsession with Dean’s butt.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He’s starting to shake again. He doesn’t want to go on the stage. He just wants to take his things and go back to Gabriel’s room, maybe sleep and catch up on his favorite shows.

“He’s right, though, you should get ready now. I won’t be gentle just because you’re too shy to do that here.”

Right. She’s right, he needs to prep himself. In a room full of strangers. Shit. He sits on the bench behind them, on the very edge of it, and lifts his tunic a little. His eyes fall on the mark Gabriel left earlier today on his thigh, the Grace in it making it shine against Dean’s skin. He can do this. He’s doing it for the others, Sam, and Cas, and all the slaves waiting at the mansion. He’s doing it so they can be free of any worries. Once Michael is out, Gabriel will come back to his old self, and he’ll be able to give all his attention to his former slaves.

He’s doing it for them, he tells himself as he tears one of the pack of lube open. He makes a quick work of opening himself up, and two packs of lube later, the plug is sitting in his ass, an uncomfortable thickness that reminds him how much he needs the chocolate he keeps looking at ever since he’s done.

A distraction, that’s what he needs right now.

“So,” he starts, when the second couple disappeared and took the stage, “you participate in those things often?”

She hums, affirmative. “My Master brings me here every year. I’m good at it, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Uh, yeah, I saw the show last night…”

“Good,” she smiles.

“And, uh… might seem like a stupid questions but, what are the rules exactly?”

She sighs. “Well, you fight the person, trying to make them come as fast as possible. First one to come loses. Then he has to bring off the winner, and they’re done.”

Dean scoffs. “Okay.”

This is the weirdest game ever. Demons… He focuses on Cassie again.

“You must know the Hotel pretty well, huh?”

She nods.

“I heard some stuff about this place,” he tries, careful. “Like, there’s some shady stuff happening behind closed doors, you know?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “You mean the private parties?”

“Oh, no. Not that. I mean… really shady stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know…” He pretends to look at his nails, disinterested. “I just heard rumors, is all.”

“Well they’re just that, rumors. I never heard anything about ‘shady stuff’.”

She looks annoyed, so Dean quits asking. Instead, he listens to the show, and he starts getting antsy. He’s only been here for four days, but it feels more like weeks. He’s tired of all that shit, already.

Soon, the last couple before them leave for the stage, too. Dean has to eat the chocolate, and even though it’s really good, it has trouble passing through his throat. He’s scared of what he’ll do or what he’ll ask Gabriel because of it. He can’t stop thinking about it as the fight before his goes on. Gabriel is behaving perfectly so far, but what if it’s too much and he succumbs to the temptation? Not that Dean considers himself to be amazing, he knows he’s good looking, but he knows that when he comes on to Gabriel, like he did last time, the angel has trouble refusing him.

What if Dean forgets himself, just jumps the guy, and ride his dick ‘til Gabriel has no choice but to fill Dean’s ass with his come?

Dean blinks. His dick is rock hard under his tunic, just thinking about that. Uh, the chocolate must be working, then. He tries to stop thinking about Gabriel. Anyway, there’s not much time to dwell on the thought, because it’s his and Cassie’s turn, now. He removes his tunic and the plug like the handlers are telling him too, and put on the condom, his erection bobbing obscenely as he walks to the entrance.

The last couple goes out, and the lights inside the dome turn off. Cassie takes him by the arm and guides him in the middle of the dome. Lights turn on again. There’s an explosion of applause. Dean’s heart pounds frantically against his ribcage. He searches the crowd with anxious eyes, feeling panic rise inside of him.

Meanwhile, Cassie raises the strap-on in the air, her tongue stuck between her teeth as she wriggles it around. The crowd laughs. She puts it on, making a show of it. Dean can’t find Gabriel. He can’t find Gabriel and he’s about to throw up.

The first person he spots is Val. Gabriel is sitting next to him, staring at Dean with intensity. Throwing caution to the wind he smiles at Dean reassuringly. Dean takes a breath as a bell rings.

Time to get started, then.

Cassie’s already circling him, so he takes a fighting stance, following her every move. There’s a time and place to think about how he’s naked, ass leaking lube in front of people. Now is not the time, Dean tries to remind himself. He needs to win, so Val will introduce him and Gabriel to Alastair. The sooner they meet the guy, the faster they can find out what’s wrong here and go home.

She’s the one making the first move, throwing a punch at him. As he leans back to dodge her fist, she sweeps her foot under him, sending him tumbling backward. When he turns around to push himself up she’s on him in a second, holding him belly first on the floor, an arm pinned to his back. He tries to wriggle away as soon as he feels the first nudge of plastic against his hole, but it’s no use. She buries the thing deep inside of him, in a violent push of hips. His breath hitches. It’s good, because of the drugs, but it’s also painful, and he can’t help the yelp that comes out of his mouth when she starts moving.

Fuck, _get your shit together, Winchester_!

He can’t believe she had him on her first try. He tries to raise his head but she pushes down on it with her other hand, crushing his face on the floor. The only thing he can move right now is his free arm, so he takes a breath and swings it backward, surprising her enough that she loses her balance and he’s able to roll over and send her flying. Thankfully, the dildo attached to her hip is flexible, and it slips out of him without hurting him, despite the weird angle.

She’s on the floor, now. There’s no good way to do this, so Dean plunges forward, pinning her to the floor, her hands on both sides of her head, and holding her legs open with both knees on her thighs. It hurts her, he sees, and he’s not happy about that, but he’s here to win. The condom is lubricated and she’s so wet that he doesn’t even need his hand to guide his dick inside her. It slides in easy, and she moans. There’s no denying how good this feels. Dean can’t help it. He starts pounding into her, grunting with the effort. She tries to get out from under him, but he tightens his grip, and keeps going, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass so loud he can barely hear himself.

Something incredible happens. She gives up. She stops fighting him, throwing her head back in pleasure. He smirks when she looks back up, giving her a winning smile as he repositions his legs to have better access. Great mistake.

Her legs shoot up around his hips, her grip on him like a vice, and she turns them around, taking advantage of Dean’s inattention. She punches him while he’s on the ground, once, twice, until he sees stars and is disoriented for a minute. She downright manhandles him, his dick making an obscene noise as she pulls off him. He tries to stand up but her hands catch him in the middle, pulling him backward right on top of the toy attached to her hips. He gasps when he’s fully sitting in her lap, the toy pushing inside him. He tries to move, but she leans back, arm at his throat. He can do nothing but pull at her arm with his hands, but she’s strong. She’s so fucking strong!

She doesn’t have the leverage to move her hips, but her other hand grips Dean’s dick tight and starts stroking fast, while she tries to angle the strap-on until Dean gives her a clue that she has the right spot.

He sees stars for a moment, moaning. He tries to fight it, to fight her. But she’s cleverer than he is, apparently. Tightening the hold on his throat, until he can only breathe by gulping desperately, she keeps going. The lack of oxygen makes him dizzy, and the more he fights her, the worse it gets. He gets it. He’s done. Fight’s over, she won.

His legs relax, and he keeps clutching at her arm to try and find some air. Pleasure overwhelms him when he stops trying to hold it back. She found the right spot, alright. She’s knows what she’s doing, the hand on his dick keeping up the good work while she manages to gives little aborted pushes with her hips. There’s the familiar sensation of a fire growing in his belly, steady and warm, and, in a last desperate attempt to escape, he tries to move again. It lands her right on his prostate, and he’s done.

He comes with a silent cry, eyes fluttering shut. There’s the sound of applause again, then Cassie lets him go, only to push him on his back and sink on his dick, punching the little bit of air he managed to take out of him. He lets her do what she has to, eyes closed and fists tight on his sides.

Shame starts creeping up, making the tip of his ears hot. They’re in front of a crowd, and shit, the effects of the chocolate get milked out of him when he comes again, same time as she does, leaving him naked and scared, lying on the floor.

“Come on,” she whispers, nudging at him when she’s done.

She helps him up and smiles to the cheering crowd, raising her fist in the air.

And that, thankfully, is the end of it. Dean doesn’t even take the shower he’s offered, he finds his way through the service stairs and almost runs to his room.

 

**\---------------------------------------------**

 

Dean’s already in the shower when he hears Gabriel’s footstep outside the room.

“Dean?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to talk. He feels like crap, thanks to Gabriel’s great ideas. Dean never agreed to participate in a fight, he just said he’d consider it, and the angel went and signed him up anyway. Dean doesn’t need to hear any excuse from him. He’s pissed, and miserable, and he just wants to clean himself and sleep.

“Dean, are you okay?”

He keeps his mouth shut. Gabriel doesn’t ask again. Dean hears the sound of footsteps fading away, and he closes his eyes, trying to relax and let the hot water soothe him. But nothing helps him forget the way he feels right now. Ashamed, small and insignificant. Sam would probably make fun of him for sulking because he’s been beaten up by a girl. But it’s not that.

It’s being here, having to wear that ridiculous tunic. It’s having to kneel in public and hide to be able to eat. It’s the way the other patrons look at him like he’s a piece of meat. It’s the curious, disturbing look Val gives him whenever he sees him. Dean has seen that look. In Lucifer’s eyes. It’s the constant humiliation, how quickly Dean’s gotten used to people looking at his ass, watching him fuck. He feels like a dog, truly, because of all that. A beautiful dog that Gabriel parades around to get what he wants.

A tear falls on his cheek, mingling with the water, and Dean wipes it away furiously. He gets out of the shower, dressing up in his underwear, and goes straight for the bed.

Gabriel comes back to him a few minutes later, stilling at the foot of the bed.

“Dean…”

“I’m fine, leave me alone,” Dean snaps.

He hides under the comforter until Gabriel goes away and Dean hears the TV. Sleep doesn’t come easily, that night. But it comes, finally. Dean has a nightmare again. He dreams of Lucifer’s eyes on him, of his hands on Dean’s flesh, clawing at him until it burns and set Dean’s skin on fire.

 

**\---------------------------------------------**

 

The morning after is not a happy one. Gabriel made breakfast for him again, but the eggs are burned, there’s too much salt in them and the bacon is cold. Dean wants to throw it away, just to spite Gabriel.

He decided instead to let Gabriel know how angry he is. So he sat with the angel at the table outside, and avoids looking at him or even acknowledging that he’s sitting right in front of him.

“Dean,” the angel starts. First word of the day. “I’m sorry you’re reacting this way, I can only imagine how difficult it was for you, but if it can make you feel better I learned some things yesterday.”

Dean turns a page of the newspaper he’s reading. Or pretending to read, at least. He doesn’t answer.

“Do you want to know what Val told me?”

Dean can’t ignore that.

“No,” he says, folding his newspaper with a sigh. “I don’t want to hear about Val anymore, okay? I just… can we just enjoy the room and pretend we’re on vacation or something for a few days? I can’t take this anymore, Gabe. I can’t.”

Gabriel looks down.

“I mean… all the sex, and-and the slave thing, and the demons, I just can’t anymore,” Dean goes on. He feels tears coming up, and he tries to swallow them. “I’m tired and… just… can you avoid signing me up for anything, or arranging for me to meet anyone until at least the private party on Thursday? Just, three days of peace, that’s all I ask.”                                                                     

“Okay,” Gabriel whispers, a dejected look on his face.

Dean just nods in answer.

They come to a silent understanding in the days that follow. Gabriel doesn’t speak to Dean, only answers when Dean has a question or needs something, like a key to their suite, and he usually leaves during the day, giving Dean his much needed space. So Dean spends three days watching TV, eating and sleeping. The only thing that bugs him is he can’t leave the room, which sucks.

On Thursday, Dean gets antsy again, like he usually is when he knows something’s coming. Truth is, even though he knows he’s not the one they’ll play with tonight, as promised by Val, he has an inkling they won’t leave him be either.

After lunch, he can’t take it anymore. Gabriel’s gone to the casino again, and Dean’s alone in front of a re-run of The Kardashians’ show, and he’s bored and anxious. There’s a shit ton of dishes waiting for him, so he does just that, and piles everything into the basin he found under the sink.

He wants to see the slave’s quarters again. Maybe he missed something. Maybe Julie didn’t want him to see some stuff. He thinks, maybe if he looks like he’s just here to do his thing, then the others will leave him alone, and he’ll be able to explore.

Once there, he puts everything in its right place and leaves his basin in a corner of the kitchen. The cooks and kitchen helps don’t look at him, probably used to people coming and going. So Dean explores, like he wants to. But there’s nothing to find. There are a few rooms with beds in them, several bathrooms, too, a sort of living room, with tables and chairs. Nothing else. Except for the door that clearly says ‘Access Personnel Only’ in the far end of the quarters, behind the bedrooms, with a digital code to open it that piques Dean’s curiosity. He tries a few strings of four numbers at random, but nothing works. He even tries pushing the door, simply, but it’s locked. Interesting.

“What are you doing?”

He turns around, surprised, and plasters a confused smile on his face when he sees it’s Julie.

“Oh, hey! I just…”

“You can’t go in there. Can’t you read?”

“I’m sorry. No, I can’t really, uh… I know the letters, but that’s it,” he lies.

That could be a perfectly good explanation, he thinks. She seems to believe him, smiling again.

“Oh, sorry, uh…” She gives him a quizzical look.

“Dean,” he says, when he understand she wants to know his name.

“Dean. Well, you can’t go in there, Dean. Do you need anything?”

He pretends he’s ashamed, rubbing at the back of his neck. She smiles gently at him.

“No. I’m really sorry, I just been cooped up in my Master’s room for so long, I just thought I’d take a walk… maybe have a look around, meet some new people, you know?”

“Well…” She gives a look around. “That can be arranged. I’m allowed a break just now, do you want to come with me and meet some of the cooks?”

Nodding, trying to look as eager as he can, he follows her. Turns out she’s only taking him to the living room, where three guys are sitting at a table, eating sandwiches. He sits next to her as she takes a chair in front of the guys.

“Guys, this is Dean.”

They answer with a small ‘hey’ each, too busy eating. Julie picks up one of the sandwiches and hands it to Dean, only taking one for herself when he takes it from her. He’s surprised, but that’s kinda nice. The other guys don’t seem too happy that she’s sharing their food.

“What is he doing here,” one of them, an Asian guy with long, brown hair tied in a ponytail, asks.

“He wants to make friends,” Julie answers.

She’s talking about him like he’s retarded, and Dean tries not to show how offended he is. He gives the Asian guy a goofy smile and bites in his sandwich. The other guys, one giant black guy with a shaved head and a small but weirdly muscular white guy wearing an apron both scoff, smiling at each other like they’re sharing a lewd joke.

“Ryan’s gonna have our asses if he finds out you brought strangers in here. What if his Master doesn’t know he’s down here?”

“Oh, he knows,” Dean comes in. “I’m allowed to speak to other people, if you can believe it.”

He keeps smiling at them, a hint of defiance in his eyes. Julie blushes.

“Sorry… it’s just… our Masters don’t like having problems with the clients. By the way this is Lloyd,” she points to the muscular guy, “Alex,” Shaved-head, “and Rick.” Ponytail.

“Pleasure,” Dean says.

“Whatever…” Lloyd breathes.

Dean keeps eating his sandwich, listening to them as they talk about things that Dean has no interest in, like who’s gonna close the kitchen tonight or why Julie always feels the need to bring in strays. Julie apologizes, profusely, and Dean shrugs every time, acting like he doesn’t care. And he doesn’t, not really. He’s used to people thinking he’s stupid, or worthless. But after a while, he gets why they don’t like him much. Most of the slaves coming to the hotel are pleasure slaves, he understands from their conversations. And he said he had a Master. It surprises him that he manages to find some bigoted assholes even among other slaves. He thought they’d be more open-minded, at least.

“So, guys,” he says when he’s done with his sandwich, “what’s it like to work in a hotel?”

“Oh, it’s really nice,” Julie smiles.

“You say that ‘cause you’re high up the ladder,” Rick says.

She shrugs. “You’re just jealous.”

“Must be exhausting, though,” Dean adds.

He really wants to get the conversation going so they’ll maybe reveal stuff they’re not supposed to. He didn’t think it’d be that hard to uncover illegal stuff. He thought being a slave would help, that he’d get confessions. Lucifer always talked in front of his slaves, revealing things without even noticing because he considered them lower than pets. Surely, the slaves here have heard some things, right?

“It is, but I’m happy I’m doing just that,” Lloyd laughs, “better cook for some rich assholes than suck dicks all day.”

The other guys laugh with him, and Dean keeps smiling, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, funny,” Dean answers.

He doesn’t want to fight with them. He needs information, goddammit! He pulls on his collar, trying to soothe the warmth of the silicone on his skin. He tries to think of something else to ask, but the guys aren’t making it easy.

“What’s happening in here? Shouldn’t you be working?”

Dean turns around, trying to find the source of the voice. The others stand up so quickly he doesn’t have time to register what’s happening.

“Yes, Master,” they say in a chorus of voices.

And they leave. Dean takes the time to look at the guy in the Hotel uniform before he stands up. Slightly fat sweaty guy with a mustache. Typical.

“Who are you?”

Dean’s surprised that the guy doesn’t let him pass, and he tries to avoid giving him an annoyed look.

“I’m the Archangel’s Gabriel’s slave, Sir.”

The guy slaps him. Dean’s too stunned to say anything about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

“You’re in my kitchen, you call me Master!”

“Yes, Master,” he mumbles.

So he’s in deep shit again, huh?

“What are you doing here?”

“I was just bringing back some dishes and I thought I’d take time to know the place. Master.”

The guy scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest.

“And does your Master know you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“I swear it’s true, Master.”

Dean keeps his eyes on the floor as he speaks. First, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he looks the guy in the eye. Probably punch him. Which wouldn’t do him any good. And second, he needs to look like the obedient little slave he’s pretending to be, for the sake of his cover.

The guy hums, thoughtful, and he takes a step to Dean, lifting his chin up with one finger.

“I don’t believe you. There’s no way someone like him would let you slack around… but we can maybe find an arrangement so I’ll keep your secret.”

“I just want to go back to my Master’s room.”

“Well, you can’t. I need to report you. Unless you give me a little something. Then I’ll let you go…”

Finally, Dean looks at the guy’s face, and what he sees there he doesn’t like one bit. The guy sneers, his face coming so close to Dean’s that Dean can see the pores of his skin.

“Suck my cock, slave boy, and I’ll let you leave.”

Okay, that was to be expected. Dean barely holds back from rolling his eyes.

“No. I think I’ll just leave. Go ahead, report me, I don’t care,” Dean answers, trying to pass him by.

But the guy pushes him away and, before Dean can do anything about it, he backhands him, hard. Dean falls on the floor, and as he’s pushing himself up, the guy grabs him by the throat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, you lying piece of shit, or I’m bringing you to your Master right now and we’ll see if you still don’t care about it.”

That’s it, Dean’s just fed up. He feels blood dripping down his nose, and he sees red. He spits in the guy’s face. The guy blinks at him, surprised. He takes a hold of Dean’s arm and twists it behind his back, pushing him forward. Dean has no choice but to walk with him. They cross the kitchen, walk through a corridor that leads to the entrance to the casino. Dean’s arm hurt like hell, and he tries to twist his way out of the guy’s grip but it’s no use. He keeps walking, the guy pushing him forward until he spots a bouncer.

The guy comes up to him, still holding onto Dean tightly.

“Have you seen the Archangel Gabriel?”

The bouncer nods toward their right, and they go again. Gabriel’s sitting at a table with Val and two other guys in cheap suits, playing poker. He has his back to them. Dean can’t say anything, for fear he’ll actually get a real punishment this time, so he lets the guy push him until they’re on Gabriel’s side. Val spotted them a few seconds ago, and he’s looking at Dean with curious interest.

“Your Grace, I’m sorry to interrupt,” the guy says, and Gabriel looks up from his game. Dean sees his eyes widening slightly before he schools his features. “I found this slave in my kitchen, he says he’s yours.”

Dean tries to speak, then, because there’s no way he’s going to let that Denny Devito look alike blow their only chance at meeting Alastair by spreading rumors about him, but the guy’s faster, his other arm coming at Dean’s throat and pushing. Dean can barely breathe anymore.

“He is,” Gabriel says. “What are you doing?”

“He was slacking, keeping the others from working. He tried to come unto me, your Grace, so I wouldn’t report him to you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. Really? Gabriel’s mouth twitches slightly, like he wants to laugh.

“Hm…” Gabriel says, eyeing Dean. “Did you do that?” He point to Dean’s bloody nose, raising an eyebrow at the guy.

“Yes, Your Grace, I’m sorry. I had to push him away, he was very insistent.”

Dean can’t talk. If he could, he’d tell the guy to go fuck himself. Standing up, Gabriel takes the guy’s arm away from Dean’s throat.

“Dean, what happened?”

“I was in the kitchen, like you said I could, and this guy comes in and starts saying I shouldn’t be there and he’s gonna report me if I don’t suck his dick. Master.”

“That so?”

Dean nods, because he can’t do much else.

“You fucking liar,” the guy exclaims. And he tries to strangle Dean with his arm again. “Your Grace, you’re not going to believe—“

“Please let go of my slave, now.”

The guy obeys, pushing Dean violently away from him. Dean tries to keep his cool, and comes to take the Stance behind Gabriel, hands behind his back and head bowed.

“I don’t like people lying to me,” Gabriel starts again. And Dean realizes that there’s not a sound around. When he looks up, everybody in the room is looking at them, waiting.

“I’m not lying, Your Grace, I swea—“

“And I know when people are lying to me. But I have to hand it to you, it takes pretty big balls to come to me and try to make me believe that _my_ slave, that I trained myself, would try to jump the first man he bumps into just because he feels like it. Is that how I trained you, Dean?”

“No, Master,” Dean answers like a good little soldier.

There’s no denying he’s enjoying this. And he has to admit, Gabriel’s kind of hot when he gets all mighty Archangel on people’s ass.

“So I’m asking you, what made you think you could use my slave as you pleased?”

Opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish, the guy stands there, sweating even more than he was before, trying to come up with a good excuse.

“You know,” Gabriel goes on, “I explicitly tell my slaves to defend themselves if anybody tries anything funny with them. Do you wanna see what that’s like when they do?”

The guy doesn’t answer. Gabriel gives Dean a gentle look.

“Go ahead, Dean, show him.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him, in a ‘are you serious’ way.

“Go on,” Gabriel smiles.

He doesn’t need to tell Dean twice. Shrugging, Dean takes a step forward, and before anybody can do anything to stop him, he punches the guy in the face hard, grabbing his shoulders before he can fall backward, and knees him in the nuts. A woman screams in surprise in the back of the room, but Dean ignores it. The guy doubles over, and Dean takes his arms and twists them behind his back, maneuvering him until he’s facing Gabriel.

Behind the angel, Val is sitting back in his chair, smiling like he’s clearly impressed. Gabriel walks closer to the guy until their noses are almost touching.

“I don’t like anybody handling my things, unless I give explicit permission. So next time you want to lick someone’s ass, don’t try your filthy lies on me, or I’ll make sure you end up right where Dean’s standing. Understood?”

The guy nods frantically, and when Dean lets go, he almost runs out of the room. Dean takes the Stance again, while Gabriel gives everybody around who’s staring a mean, all powerful look. Conversations start again, slowly, as people turn away from them.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Val comes in. He doesn’t look sorry at all. “I didn’t know I had such… pigs among my personnel.”

“It’s fine,” Gabriel says, taking his jacket from the back of his seat, “we’ll see each other tonight. I need to go back to my room and take care of Dean’s injuries, if you don’t mind…”

Val nods, and they go. It seems a bit exaggerated, Dean thinks, to call a bloody nose an injury, but he gets what Gabriel means when he sees himself in the living room’s mirror. Is nose is double its regular size, a purple-reddish color, and there are bruises imprinted on his neck where the guy held him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers Gabriel, poking at his nose. He hisses when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “That was fun, actually.”

“Let me see,” the angel says, taking Dean’s face into his hand. His eyes roam over Dean’s face, assessing everything. “Can I heal you?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?”

Dean chuckles. “No, I think I’m getting used to you, by now. Go ahead.”

The familiar sensation of Grace seeping into his skin, warm and tingling, comes and goes before Dean can even realize Gabriel’s done. Gabriel steps back, a bit too quickly for Dean’s taste, with a curious look on his face. His eyes dart down on Dean, and Dean understands when he shifts on his feet, the fabric of his tunic grazing the tip of his very visible erection. Oh.

He shrugs it off, laughing awkwardly. “Adrenaline,” he says. “Plus, you’re kinda hot when you go angel warrior on people’s ass.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrow like he can’t believe he’s hearing this.

“Well I’m… I’m happy you’re getting some… natural reactions again.”

They stare at each other for a second, before Dean opens his mouth.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

More staring. Clearing his throat, Dean steps away. “I’m gonna go shower and… get ready for tonight.”

“Right. You do that.”

“Okay.”

 

**\---------------------------------------------**

 

Dean gets out of the shower with an idea that could maybe get him out of any other sexual misadventure for the night. It’s been bugging him ever since this morning, but seeing how Val was looking at him earlier, he knows the demon wants to see Dean at work. And Dean can’t do that, not tonight. He doesn’t think he’s capable of it.

He goes to Gabriel, who’s sitting outside, with the ropes he bought in hand, and clears his throat to get the angel’s attention. When Gabriel sees the ropes, his gaze get stuck on it.

“I was thinking,” Dean starts, “uh, maybe it would be a good idea to tie me up and just… pretend you’re punishing me for something. For tonight, you know. So they won’t use me as their own live porn star.”

Gabriel’s eyes snap up to Dean, wide.

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah… you can say you didn’t like that I got you in trouble this afternoon. So you tied me up so I won’t move. I don’t know. That’s the only fake punishment I can think of, ‘cause it won’t hurt me.” Gabriel doesn’t say anything, keeps blinking at Dean like there’s something in his eyes. “And, hum… I kinda wanted to try it. It seems… relaxing.”

He still remembers the images of people in complex rope work that he found on the internet half a year ago. It seemed intriguing at the time. Now that he has a rope and he’s not so uptight anymore, well… he thinks, he can allow himself that. He won’t panic if Gabriel doesn’t tie the ropes too tight.

“Okay,” Gabriel says.

So that’s decided. Dean tell him to make it look believable, and it take Gabriel an hour to even _think about it_. When he’s done picking his brain, he comes to Dean who’s in front of the TV, and takes a breath.

“They’ll be here soon.”

“Great,” Dean deadpans. “Let’s do this, then.”

“Just… go sit on a chair, I’ll be right back.”

Dean looks at the angel go curiously. He comes back with the bag of toys, where Dean put the rope back earlier, and takes it out.

“It’s either you keep your tunic on or you have to get naked right now, so I’m guessing you choose the tunic?”

“Yep.”

“Okay…”

Gabriel comes close, looking at Dean for a while, before he pulls on the hem of the tunic until it tears open in the middle of Dean’s chest.

“It’ll do,” he comments.

Dean doesn’t say anything, even if he’s surprised. He just watches Gabriel do his thing, as the angel starts to undo the rope. He hesitates for just a second before he passes the rope behind Dean’s neck, and starts making a knot just above Dean’s solar plexus. He passes it behind Dean’s back, ties another knot.

“Hands behind your back,” he whispers.

And he keeps working, for another ten minutes, focused like Dean’s rarely seen him. He ties Dean’s entire arms behind his back in a neat, ninety degrees angle, rolls the rope around Dean’s chest, make knots, until Dean’s whole upper body is held tight and good. It’s not too tight, thankfully, keeping Dean’s back straight, but not straining on Dean’s muscles. It’s rather nice, actually.

“There,” he says when he’s done.

“What’s all that about,” Dean asks, looking pointedly at his hips when there a good number of knots that don’t seem to serve a particular purpose.

Gabriel looks a bit embarrassed. “Usually that bit of rope goes, uh… down. Around your genitals and, hum…”

“I see…”

“You know what would look good with it?”

Dean looks up, and he wants to shrug but the rope prevents him. “What?”

“Don’t say no right away, okay?”

Gabriel bends down, and takes something out of the bag. Dean doesn’t get what it is at first. There’s a steal bar the size of a pen, with two steal rings hanging from each side, and a piece of leather attached to each ring.

“What the fuck is that?”

“A gag?”

Dean huffs. “ _That_ ’s a gag? I’m not putting that on my face.”

Gabriel steps closer to him again, taking a seat in front of him. “It’s like, a half gag. You can still talk with it on. Just… can’t you try it?”

“I don’t even know how to put it on. I’m not wearing something I can’t even figure out.”

Gabriel sighs. He twists his mouth, seemingly thinking about something.

“Okay, look…” He takes the thing, grabs the pen-like steal bar between his teeth. The rings press against his cheeks as he ties the pieces of leather behind his head. “S’here. S’ot h’ad, ‘eally.”

And Dean can’t help but burst out laughing. Gabriel looks vexed.

“ ‘hat?”

“Nothing,” Dean laughs, and another fit takes him when Gabriel frowns. “Nothin’, just… oh my God. Yeah, no, if I look as ridiculous as you with that on I’m not letting you put it on me.”

Gabriel takes off the gag, not without difficulty, the hair on the back of his head standing in all directions. His cheeks get red when Dean keeps laughing.

“Okay, it looks ridiculous on me. But you never look ridiculous, Dean. Not in any situation. You’re always so…” he bites on his lower lips like he can’t say the word out loud, like he knows Dean won’t like it.

Dean stops laughing, and shakes his head.

“Fine, I’ll wear it. Whatever. We need to put on a good show, right?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Dean shuffles on his seat, his arms trying to get free of the ropes. “Okay go ahead. Might as well take the time to get used to it.”

Gabriel nods, bringing the gag close to Dean’s face, until Dean opens his mouth. The angel makes quick work of tying the thing behind his head. When he’s done, he sits back, and stares.

“Perfect,” he breathes, eyes shining with something close to awe.

Dean’s heart starts beating faster, and he’s not sure of the reason, but a pleasant feeling seeps into his bones, and he stares back. There’s a smile in the corner of Gabriel’s mouth, ready to come out full force. A smile that means business. Very pleasant business.

A knocks on the door interrupts the moment. Dean jumps, very much aware of who’s behind the door.

“Go kneel over there,” Gabriel says, waving to the corner of the room.

Dean obeys, and waits, heart pounding in his chest as Gabriel opens the door and greats his guests. He averts his eyes when the demons enter the room.

“Nice room,” Crowley comments as he enters first.

Val follows, a boy that looks barely older than Jordan following behind him. His slave.

“Hm…” another guy says, entering the living room. “A bit too pure for my taste.”

Val laughs, turning to Gabriel. “Gabriel, this is Nash. He’s an old friend of mine, and I thought it was time you two meet.”

“Great,” Gabriel says. And for a second Dean could have believed he was really happy to see all the demons. “Please, sit.” He goes to fetch some chairs, and puts them in front of the coffee table.

Crowley raises an eyebrow at him.

“Why are you doing all the work? And why is your slave tied up in a corner? I thought you’d reward him, after what I heard happened…”

Gabriel sits, barely looking in Dean’s direction. Dean pretends he’s ashamed, looking down.

“I don’t like being embarrassed in public. He could have taken care of the problem himself, and instead he chose to bring it over to me. It was necessary that he took a little… time out.”

“I see…” Val says. “Well, I brought my boy for tonight.” He pulls on the slave boy’s arm and brings him close to him, grabbing a handful of his ass. “I hired a young man to take care of him, I hope you don’t mind, Gabriel.”

“Not at all.”

He doesn’t really have a choice, anyway, Dean thinks, just when someone knocks at the door again.

“Ah, it must be him!”

Val stands up, like he’s at home, and goes to open the door. He comes back with Gregory in tow. Dean has trouble not showing his surprise. Gabriel and Gregory fail. They look at each other for a second too long, giving themselves away.

Gregory is not stupid, though, and he smiles, all teeth, and bows. “Your Grace, it’s an honor to see you again.”

“You know each other,” Val says, pleasantly surprised.

“I hired him a few times, yes,” Gabriel answers. “I’m glad I get to see him at work again.”

Nash gives them a bored look. “Shall we proceed?”

Dean takes a breath. Gabriel hasn’t called him, and he’s kinda glad. Although the fact that Gregory is the one doing the dirty work helps a bit. Dean doesn’t know him that well, but the guy radiates happiness and self-esteem and it’s hard not to trust him.

“Yes,” Val says. “Let’s begin.”

 


	5. We're Going Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry for the wait. I've been overwhelmed with life and work and stuff. And I kind of... forgot about the fic? So I apologize! Hopefully, this chapter will make up for it. I'm about to start an internship soon, so it may take a while for me to update the chapters, since I'm re-writting everything. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

# CHAPTER 5 : We’re Going Wrong

 

Castiel can’t really say he likes being human, but he’s slowly getting used to it, and it can have its perks. Now, though, he’s not enjoying himself as much as he thought he would. He’s hungry, but can’t find his appetite, and he’s more than anxious. Lying on the couch in Gabriel’s study, he’s been staring at Sam who’s sitting at Gabriel’s desk, a computer open in front of him, for the last thirty minutes.

He sighs, for the umpteenth time, which makes Sam looks up from what he’s doing. He glares at Castiel, closing his laptop angrily.

“Moping won’t help,” he says.

Castiel sighs again. “It’s been more than a week, and Gabriel hasn’t called. I’m worried.”

“Don’t you think I am, too? But we need to give them time. Like you said, it’s only been a week. They’ll call when they can.”

The door creaks, opening slightly, Jessica’s head peeking through the opening. She smiles at Castiel, and turns to Sam.

“I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Sam smiles, “need to finish up on this.”

“Okay.”

She leaves, and Sam looks at the books open in front of him, a look of desperation on his face. Castiel sits up, and squints at him.

“Did you tell her yet?”

“No,” Sam answers.

“You should.”

“She doesn’t even know who Ruby is,” Sam counters, annoyed. “She doesn’t need to know I’m looking for her. Maybe when I find her and she’s rotting in some prison like she should be… I’ll tell Jess. But there’s no need to worry her now.”

“Right,” Castiel says, because what else can he say? He can’t order Sam around. And if he doesn’t see it’s hurting his newly formed relationship, then Castiel can’t make him see it.

Sam stands up, stretching.

“I’m gonna join her. Don’t stay up too late. And stop sulking.”

Castiel doesn’t answer, just watches the boy leave, as he keeps thinking about Gabriel. He wonders what his brother is doing, now. He hopes nothing bad is happening to him. Or to Dean, for that matter. Dean is in as much danger as Gabriel, if not more.

He sighs another time for good measure, and is about to leave the couch when the door opens again, and Meg comes in. She’s carrying a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water. She smiles at him as she comes to sit next to him, handing him the tray.

“You haven’t eaten anything today. You should try to keep your strength.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Liar.”

He gives her a shy look, and takes the sandwich in hands. It’s good. She’s a good cook, he’s come to learn. But his heart is not in it.

“You’re still worried about Gabriel?”

He nods.

“I get it,” she says, looking around, “I’m worried for Dean, too. I don’t think it’s good for him, but… he made his decision, you know? So we should let them do their thing, and stop worrying about them. There’s nothing we can do but wait.”

“I know… but I wish I could help.”

She hums, thoughtful. “Yeah, me too. I wish I could be with Dean, be there for him.”

He nods again, and freezes.

“Meg.”

“Yes?”

“Do you really want to help Dean?”

She gives him a curious look. He puts the sandwich down, and turns to her, almost vibrating out of his skin with impatient energy.

“Yeah. Why?”

He smiles. “I have an idea. A really, really bad idea.”

She huffs. “I’m all ears.”

 

**___________________________________________________________**

 

“Take off your clothes,” Gregory tells the boy in a gentle tone.

Nodding, the boy obeys, trembling. Dean feels as scared he looks, but at least he’s kneeling far away from everything. Nobody will pay him any attention here.

“Are you going to leave your boy in the corner all night long,” Crowley asks Gabriel. Somehow it sounds rhetorical. “It’s a shame he can’t at least see what’s happening.”

“I don’t want him to enjoy himself too much. He’s still being punished.”

“Come on,” Val says, nudging Gabriel’s elbow, “you probably left him there all afternoon. Give him a break, and let him come closer at least.”

Gabriel sighs. “I guess watching can’t hurt him…” he concedes.

He gives Dean a look, his eyebrows briefly furrowing in what looks like an apologetic expression, and he opens his mouth. “Come here!”

So Dean has no choice but to get up and join them.

He kneels next to Gabriel, trying to hide the tremor of his body. He’s scared, and he’s very glad he’s not the one naked in front of everybody this time. From up close, the boy looks even younger. Gregory ties his hands behind his back, just rolling the rope around his wrist while he whispers soothing nonsense into the boy’s ear.

It doesn’t stop the boy from crying, but he nods, looking up at Gregory like he’s the guy who’s going to get him out of this nightmare. Gregory ties the boy’s hands behind his back, makes him sit on the table, lifting his knees up until his ankles almost touch the back of his thighs, and ties his legs in this position. He guides the boy until he’s lying belly first on the coffee table, knees underneath him, butt in the air. The boy chokes on a sob.

Dean can’t believe the table is big enough to fit a grown man. But it makes sense, he realizes. If they have these kinds of parties often, then the furniture has to be useful, too.

When he’s done, his smile still in place, Gregory turns to Val.

“Is there anything you’d like me to use?”

Val snaps his fingers, and a cock ring appears in his other hand. Plain, black, adjustable.

“He’s new to this, so he’ll need it.”

Gregory takes it from him carefully.

“Do you still want me to do what we discussed? Edging can be difficult for someone who’s never done it before.”

“Let me worry about him. You do what I paid you to do.”

“Yes, Sir,” Gregory says.

Walking behind the boy, he ties the cock ring around the boy’s limp dick, and straightens up. He takes one of the hotel’s chocolate out of his pocket, and bends over the boy, unwrapping the candy and bringing it close to his mouth.

“This is going to help, okay? Eat it.”

The boy opens his mouth, reluctantly, tears leaking from his eyes. Dean can see Gregory’s not too happy about that. But he goes on, anyway.

He takes a bottle of lube from a bag at his feet, his, Dean supposes, and puts it down between the boys legs. He runs his hands on the boy’s back, soothingly, massaging the side of his thighs, kneading his ass cheeks until the chocolate starts working and the boy gets hard.

The boy lets out a muffled moan when Gregory starts running his knuckles on his dick.

“That’s it, just let it go. It’s going to be really good, you’ll see.”

“Don’t pamper him,” Val says, annoyed.

He gives Gabriel a look when the angel stands up and goes to the mini bar. He brings back a bottle of bourbon and four glasses, pouring drinks for the demons and himself.

It takes a while for the boy to stop crying, a lot of work on Gregory’s part, too. He’s going slowly, and the demons are getting impatient.

“Can you just do something, already,” Nash growls.

Dean doesn’t like him. From what he’s seen so far, the only thing the guy can do is complain.

Gregory grabs the lube, spreading a good amount on his fingers. The boy starts crying again when he feels the finger on his hole. Gregory tries his best, but after a few minutes of the boy crying and Gregory trying to soothe him, he still hasn’t managed to push a knuckle in. The boy is just too tight, and Dean suspects Gregory is holding back because he doesn’t actually enjoy raping children.

 “I’m sorry, sir,” Gregory says, straightening up, “I told you it was going to be difficult with a first-timer.”

Val hums, a low rumble that shakes Dean to the core. He knows what’s going to come out of the demon’s mouth when the demon turns to him. He addresses Gabriel, keeping his eyes on Dean.

“Obviously I had too high hopes for my boy, here,” the boy looks down in fear. Tears are still running on his cheeks, but he keeps silent. “Would you mind lending yours for tonight?”

Gabriel looks down on Dean and stares, pretending he’s thinking about it. Dean jumps a little, he can’t help it, when the usual feeling of pure energy his prayers to Gabriel leave behind suddenly fills up his brain, ten times as strong.

_Blink once for yes, two for no, whatever they ask, I’ll find something to say if you want out._

Glancing in Gregory’s direction, Dean thinks about it. He knows Gregory, he knows the guy’s good, and he knows that Gabriel trusts him. So, Dean should be able to trust him, too. Plus, there’s the slave boy to consider. Dean cannot, in good conscience, let him go through this. He looks exhausted and terrified, staring at Dean with unblinking, supplicant eyes.

Dean blinks once.

Straightening up on his seat, Gabriel lets out a sigh.

“Alright… I wish you’d have told me about tonight’s program, though…”

“My apologies,” Val answers, “I truly didn’t know what would happen.”

Gabriel nods, tense. Dean stands up, with less agility than he’s used to because of the intricate rope work holding his arms behind his back, but at least he doesn’t fall. He walks to Gregory and takes advantage of the fact he’s turning his back to the demons to wink at him, let him know he’s okay with this. Gregory’s smile turns brighter, real.

“You seem happy, Gregory,” Crowley says.

“Yes, Sir,” Gregory answers, freeing the boy from the ropes and sending him to his Master with a gentle push. He sits Dean on the table, making him bend his knee until his ankle touches the back of his thigh. “I’ve been wanting to work with Dean again for a long time.”

He ties Dean’s leg together in that position, and starts doing the same with the other. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, Dean thinks as Gregory manoeuvers him until he’s face first on the table, ass up in the air, his head hanging at the edge.

“May I?” He hears Gregory ask.

Hands work the clasp behind his head, and his mouth is suddenly free.

“Can we blindfold him? I don’t like the way he looks at us,” Nash says.

Dean knew the guy was shifty, but seriously… He raises his head as much as he can, blinking once to Gabriel. He hopes he’s not too obvious. With or without his eyes, he’s useless now, anyway. He just has to relax and take it, while Gabriel tries to gather as much info on Alastair as he can.

“Sure,” Gabriel says, disinterested.

He takes the bottle of bourbon, filling his glass and Val’s again, while Gregory blindfolds Dean with a piece of cloth. When Gregory’s done he clasps his hands together. He even manages to make it sound _happy_.

“Am I doing the same thing?”

“Yes, please.”

It’s Crowley. Well. Dean’s not coming tonight, huh? It’s a shame, seeing as he finally managed a natural boner and all.

“Your Grace, is there anything you want me to use?”

“Whatever you like,” Gabriel says. Dean hears him snapping his fingers, he guesses he got some of the toys out. Or maybe the whole bag. “No marks, though.” And then, almost as an afterthought, “No cock ring. He can hold it.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Gregory chirps. “Dean, you say loud and clear when you’re about to come, okay? Not a little bit before, and not too late, understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean answers.

He tries to sound as humble as he can. He’s not sure it works. It’s hard to pretend he doesn’t at least appreciate Gregory. The guy practically shits rainbows. And calling him ‘sir’ is just plain weird.

“Open your mouth.”

Dean does, the chocolate melting immediately on his tongue as it’s pushed into his mouth. He swallows it as quickly as he can.

And on they go.

Gregory raises the tunic off his ass, slowly, as he runs a hand on Dean’s ass cheeks. Dean feels him bend over him and whisper in his ear, “You have a very beautiful ass. Gabriel didn’t lie,” which makes Dean huff a laugh that he tries to disguise as a cough.

Gregory keeps running his hands on Dean’s body, slowly, for a minute or two, and Dean thinks he could almost fall asleep like this if he couldn’t hear the other people in the room breathing. And the position he’s in, knees folded under his belly, ass up and head down, is not ideal for sleep anyway.

The chocolates seem to work quicker when he’s receptive to the person doing things to him, he notices, as Gregory’s hands come back to his ass, kneading the flesh there. Arousal seems to fill his body, slowly. It’s like sinking into a hot bath.

And then there’s a tongue on his ass, surprising a cry out of Dean. He wasn’t expecting that.

“You know,” Val says, “if we like the show tonight, there’s a chance we can interest Alastair in coming next time…”

There’s a noise coming from Gabriel, a rustling of fabric, then a hum.

“It would be an honor,” he answers.

Dean has trouble focusing on their voices, Gregory’s tongue playing with his rim is a very effective distraction. His dick is rock hard, hanging heavily between his legs, and he wonders if Gabriel can see it from where he’s sitting.

Here he goes again. He doesn’t know why his mind always takes him back to Gabriel when he eats one of these God damn chocolates. Probably because Gabriel was his only male experience, until tonight. But imagining the angel’s gaze on him sets him on fire, making his dick jump. He can feel a bead of pre-come dripping from the tip of his dick, Gregory’s hand coming to rub it along his length, making everything nicely wet. And shit, that’s it, just thinking about Gabriel’s eyes on him added to Gregory’s good work, Dean feels the first hint of orgasm coming. Those chocolates are efficient.

“I’m gonna,” he pants, his tongue tripping over the words, because he knows there are people watching him, “gonna c-come!”

He feels Gregory smile against his ass.

“Hm? Are you sure?”

Fuck, shit, he knows Dean’s not on the verge, and he goes faster, harder, his tongue dipping inside Dean as he rubs his dick harder. When Dean doesn’t answer, Gregory slaps his ass, hard.

“Ah! No, Sir,” Dean breathes.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Isn’t he a handful, sometimes?” This time it’s the other guy, Nash again. He sounds like he’s chewing on something. “He looks a bit too rebellious for my taste.”

“I like him that way,” Gabriel answers with an annoyed sigh.

Dean is glad that he’s not the only one who doesn’t like the guy. He can’t think about it too much, though, because this time he’s really, really close to coming, the muscle of his lower belly contracting under the weight of the pleasure. It’s here, right here, behind his balls, ready to shoot up to his brain. He holds it. God help him, he holds it good.

“I’m gonna come, Sir, sh--“ he holds the word back, swallowing it as Gregory hums against his hole again. He doesn’t go any slower.

“Is it true this time?”

“Yes! Yes, Sir, I’m gonna--“

He holds his breath when Gregory pulls away, feeling sweat breaking on his forehead. He breathes through his nose to avoid getting out of breath too soon, and let his head hang down while he waits for the next blow.

“I have to agree with Gabriel,” Val says, “I like them wild, too. The harder to tame, the better.”

His laugh resonates in the room, low and rough.

Gregory’s hand is on Dean’s dick again, slick this time. It slides up to his hole, pushing his finger inside until his palm rests against Dean’s ass. It burns a little, but Dean thinks he has to be a little rough, sometimes. He’s working for the demons after all. Just for show, Dean lets out a little huff of discomfort. Gregory’s other hand works Dean’s dick again. It’s good, slow enough that Dean can enjoy the sensation, but not too much so he won’t come right away. He’s still a bit sensitive from his almost orgasm a minute ago, but he had time to cool down.

“He sure has potential,” Crowley comments. “You could make a fortune with him.”

Gabriel chuckles. “I’m sure I could, but I’d rather keep him for myself.”

“Shame,” Val answers.

And Dean stops listening, because the conversation is not of interest to him, and he’d rather concentrate on Gregory’s fingers on him than on people talking about him like he’s a wild puppy. Arousal is now so strong, he can feel his body tremble with it, a low, pitiful whine trying to make its way out of his throat every time Gregory’s hands pull away.

There are two fingers up his ass now, but unfortunately the hand on his dick disappeared and it’s good but it’s not enough. Gregory takes his time, pushing in and pulling out slowly, exploring at the same time. When his finger finds Dean’s sweet spot, it comes at a surprise.

“There we are,” Gregory muses.

Dean gasps, jumping a little, his limbs trying to get free of the ropes. The combination of sensations is amazing. He could almost forget why he’s here, who he’s with. He does forget a little.

Pleasure builds steadily inside of him as Gregory, who sounds very happy he found Dean’s prostate, keeps grazing it, massaging it almost, in a slow rhythm. Yes, Dean forgets where he is, sue him. He forgets everything when slick fingers come to pull his dick backward and start stroking. He moans. Loud and unabashed.

“That’s it, let it all out,” Gregory whispers.

He’s bending over Dean, his breath making the hair on the back of Dean’s neck rise with a shiver. The demons and Gabriel are talking, low now, and Dean can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. He hopes Gabriel will learn something interesting. Dean doesn’t give a single fuck. He’s doing his part, and it’s hot and good and he doesn’t want to care about anything else.

Pulling away, but keeping his hands firmly working on Dean, Gregory kneels behind him. His breath ghosts over Dean’s balls this time, and Dean’s body tightens in anticipation. When Gregory’s tongue licks a stripe on the sensitive skin, Dean jumps, and the orgasm he was denied before comes back fully, like a great wave of pure pleasure in his lower belly, threatening to drown him.

He’s making a lot of noise, but he barely hears himself. His blood rushes all over his body, all the way to his skull, rendering him deaf to the world. His heart is racing, and Dean can actually feel his nipples swell. Every shift of his body makes the ropes’ hold even more vicious, sending a plethora of sensations everywhere.

“Go-gonna—“ he pants.

He can’t say it, it’s too late. He won’t be able to hold it if Gregory goes on.

“Gonna what?”

Dean huffs, his eyebrows furrowing in a silent plea without his consent.

“Gonna come, please, s-stop!”

But Gregory just smiles against his skin, and when he speaks, the vibrations of his voice send Dean flying.

“Gonna come…?”

“Sir! Please,” and wow, okay, this is some trippy shit right here, but for a second it feels like he’s talking to Gabriel and the angel is the one who’s mouthing at his sack, smiling playfully while he digs into his ass. “Gonna come, Ma—Sir!”

A plaintive moan fills the room when Gregory let’s go, pulling away. It takes a few seconds before Dean comes back to planet earth, and realizes it’s his voice. And it’s Gregory with him. Gregory, not Gabriel, and fuck, he needs Gabriel right now, needs his hand, his dick, his everything. He should wonder why that is. He shouldn’t feel this way, anyway. He should be pissed. But his brain is too busy processing all that’s happening in this moment.

Closing his mouth again, he tries to catch his breath, wondering idly if it’s still the chocolate talking, or if his subconscious is trying to tell him something. There’s no way to answer that question.

But respite is short, and Gregory comes back to his dick again, this time taking the tip into his mouth and sucking, hard. Dean’s getting sensitive, and his thighs tremble with the need of getting free. He parts his knees, spread them as far as they’ll go to allow Gregory better access.

“Come here, boy,” he hears Val says.

And he knows the demons are into it, now, there’s no murmur of conversation, and if he focuses really hard, he can hear the sound of flesh on flesh. There’s the distinctive noise of a zipper being pulled down, and the boy slave whimpers. Dean tunes out after that. There’s no noise coming from Gabriel, and it’s a bit disappointing. Dean wants to make him lose his head. So much he’ll have no choice but to push Gregory away and take him right here in front of everybody, making Dean beg for it like a cheap whore.

Fuck! Thinking about it makes the orgasm come back incredibly fast, and Gregory’s not even touching his ass. But Gregory pulls away again. Dean feels dizzy, now. It’s like his body doesn’t know what it wants, contact, then peace, because everything’s too sensitive, but there’s the need to just come already starting to nudge at Dean’s mind.

It’s not strong enough that he’s willing to beg, just yet, so he waits patiently and doesn’t say anything, trying to stay still. His arms are starting to hurt. He’s gonna have some mean rope burns, he knows. Gabriel won’t be happy about them. Maybe he’ll give Dean a massage.

Dean’s thoughts are interrupted by something cold touching his ass. He knows from experience it’s a toy. His ass clenches against it. He’s prepped enough that when Gregory pushes the toy inside, it slides in almost effortlessly. But Gregory only used two fingers, and Dean can still feel the familiar burn of discomfort. Opening his mouth, he gulps on air like a dying fish. When he feels the little nub pushing against his sack, he knows which toy it is.

“No,” he says.

He doesn’t feel ready to take this one. He’s going to come he knows that. Not this one, any other toy, but not this one.

“No, no, please—“

Gregory angles the toy just right, the tip just barely touching his sweet spot. For a second, Dean thinks it’s all he’s going to do, in the end, but the toy starts vibrating. Full force. Dean’s gone.

“Ah! Fuck!”

He can’t hold back the curse. Once it slips out, there are plenty others coming out between all the little noises of effort and pleasure Dean’s making.

Gregory slaps his ass again, and Dean almost comes without wanting to.

“Language, Dean.”

Dean’s dick jumps, ready to blow his load, but with all the strength of will he’s capable of, he keeps from coming. It’s like a little miracle, to be honest. He wonders how he’s still conscious enough to remember to hold it.

Gregory pushes the toy harder. Dean’s whole body spasms, his sweet spot too sensitive. He whimpers, trying to find his voice again.

“Please, please, ah! P-please, I’m gonna come, Sir, please…”

Gregory keeps the toy inside, moving it around a little.

“Really? You know what, Dean… I’m feeling generous.”

“Please…”

“You want to come?”

Dean lets out a dry sob. “Yes!”

“Then do it.”

_What?_

Dean doesn’t get it right away, and even when he does, he’s not sure it’s real. His body is wound up so tight, though, that by the time he decides it’s true and he can let go, Gregory’s already pulled the toy out, turning it off.

“Sorry. I changed my mind.”

Dean wants to cry. Gregory gives a playful slap to his balls, making Dean gag on his own saliva. Too fast, there’s a mouth on the tip of his dick again, and the tip of the dildo against his balls, the vibrations pulling all kinds of sounds out of Dean.

“Gonna come,” Dean cries out.

He really is. He wants to. He wants to disobey. Had he been with Gabriel, he would have. But here, there’s the fear of punishment looming over him.

Everything stops again, but Dean can’t relax anymore. The ropes are digging into his skin, he’s sweating like a pig, and he can barely breathe right. He wants to come so bad he feels tears prickle in the corner of his eyes.

Gregory takes more time, this time around. Dean understands why when he feels actual flesh wrapped in latex pushing at his hole. It’s no effort at all for Gregory to bury himself to the hilt inside of Dean. After everything, Dean’s loose enough. His muscles clench around the length, like his body is relieved to be full again.

Gregory stays where he is, the tip of his dick pressed tight against Dean’s sweet spot, rolling his hips lazily. Letting out a sound closer to a howl than anything else, Dean raises his head, his hands trying to clutch at nothing under the strain of all he’s feeling. The pleasure is still there, it never left, but it comes with a sort of sharp pain, small, but here nonetheless. He doesn’t know if it actually makes things better or not. All he knows is the desire to come is overwhelming. Like it’s the only thing he’s been put on this earth to do.

It gets worse when Gregory starts pounding into him.

A string of ‘ah’s’ gets out of his mouth, half whispered, half cried. It helps a bit, actually. It helps holding the orgasm now wrecking his whole body, like a wild beast trying to come out of its cage.

“I’m gonna—“ he starts.

But Gregory grabs a handful of his hair, pulling his head back. “No. You keep it nice and tight until I come, get it?”

“I d- don’t know if I can.”

“We’ll see about that,” Gregory answers.

And he goes harder, faster. It’s like a perfect mix of Heaven and Hell, a bittersweet torture that Dean’s not sure he likes. Sparks fly behind his eyelids, making him almost nauseous. Gregory’s breathing hard now, and when he comes it duplicates the sensations for Dean. It’s like he’s actually coming with him, and he feels his eyes roll into his skull under the force of it. But it doesn’t quench his need, it makes it worse. He’s gonna come. He gonna come, gonna come, _gonnacomegonnacomegonnacomegonnacomegonnacomegonna_ —

Gregory pulls out, leaving Dean empty and whimpering, almost _mewling_ like a friggin’ cat in heat. There’s a satisfied groan coming from Nash, a very disgusting gagging sound from the boy slave. Dean is too tired to register all of that. All he knows is, he can’t hear anything from Gabriel, and he needs to blow is load, right the fuck now!

The room falls silent, safe for Dean’s quiet panting and moaning.

“Very impressive,” comes Val’s voice.

Everybody starts moving at once. Dean barely listens to what’s happening. All he knows is the ropes are too tight and he hurts, but there’s a constant rush of blood, pumping in his lower belly like he’s about to come with every breath, only he _doesn’t_.

He thinks they leave him like this for several minutes, but he can’t be sure.

Suddenly, Gregory’s hands are on his back, massaging the skin there, soothing. He pulls Dean up, maneuvering him again until he can untie the ropes around Dean’s legs. It’s a relief, but now it’s almost impossible for Dean to hold back from wriggling on the table until the friction on his ass makes him come so hard he faints.

Someone removes the blindfold. Dean blinks, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. The demons are gone. Gregory’s there, fully clothed, giving him a curious look.

“You okay?”

Dean groans in response, which makes Gregory laughs. There are hands on his back, and Dean tries to turn his head. Gabriel is untying him slowly, massaging the skin in the place the rope gets loose.

Gregory straightens up, stretching his arms.

“Do you want me to finish you? My treat.”

Dean shakes his head, cheeks heating up. “Nah, I’ll manage,” he croaks.

“Alright, well...” he picks up his bag, “I’ll leave you two alone, then. I’m staying here for a while, if you need me. Room three-fourteen.”

Nodding, Dean tries to give him a smile.

“I know it wasn’t really fun,” Gregory adds as he turns to leave. “But I’m happy I got to see you again. Don’t hesitate to give me a call if you ever need a hand!”

“Will do,” Dean answers, laughing weakly.

The ropes fall to the floor as the door closes on Gregory. Dean tries to stretch, but Gabriel holds his arms back.

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself. Give the blood time to come back where it needs to be.”

The angel keeps rubbing Dean’s back and arms, in silence. Just the brush of his fingers on Dean’s skin sends shivers all over Dean’s body, making his dick ache. A moan escapes him when Gabriel’s thumbs dig in the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Dean whispers. “I’m… huh.”

“Yeah, I didn’t…” Gabriel removes his hands from Dean. “I forgot.”

Finally able to stretch, Dean stands up and does so, groaning. When he turns to Gabriel, his breath cuts short. They’re way closer than he thought. Dean wants to touch, kiss, claw at the angel’s skin.

“Do you…,” Gabriel hesitates, “do you want me to…”

_Yes, please, now, take me, touch me, yes, please, please, please!_

“I…,” Dean swallows. He tries to control the tremor of his body, feels his dick jump, pre-come still oozing steadily like his dick is a leaking faucet. He sighs. “Right now the only thing I want is for you to bend me over, hold my head down until I can’t breathe and ram my ass like there’s no tomorrow but… I think that’s just the chocolate talking.”

Gabriel nods, even though he clearly doesn’t hide the fact that he’s disappointed. Dean steps back, looking around.

“So I’m just gonna…” He waves in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Okay,” Gabriel answers, licking his lips.

And God, Dean wants that tongue up his ass so bad it’s not even funny. But he bends down instead, rummaging through the bag full of toys at the tables’ feet, until he finds the vibrating plug and its remote controller. He stands there for a while, toy in hand, staring at Gabriel.

“Is it waterproof?”

Gabriel nods, his lips tightening like he’s holding back.

“So… okay. I’ll go now.”

“Alright,” Gabriel says. “I’ll just… be over here, doing the same thing, I guess.”

Dean huffs a laugh. There’s tension between them, so thick Dean almost chokes on it. So he nods, and he takes a few steps toward the bathroom, before changing his mind and coming back. He doesn’t look at Gabriel, even though he can sense the angel is wondering what Dean’s doing. He just takes Gabriel’s hand, drops the remote in it and almost flees the room.

Once in the bathroom, he shreds his tunic in record time, hopping into the shower without even checking the temperature first. Luckily, it’s warm, verging on hot, just how he likes it.

“Ah! Shit,” he breathes when the hot water touches his dick.

He moves a bit so the drops hit his length just right. He stands there for a bit, enjoying the feeling. The sound of the door opening slowly makes him turn around.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him, a bit of red tinting his cheeks.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Dean shakes his head no. That seems like a good compromise between what the drugs wants him to do and what he thinks he wants, and doesn’t want.

Gabriel lets out a breath, closing the door behind him, and comes close to the shower. He eyes don’t leave Dean’s as he takes off his button-up. Dean stares, erection throbbing between his legs, but he wills his body to be patient. Gabriel takes off his t-shirt, throwing it on the floor, and his hands come to fumble with the buckle of his belt, like he can’t remember how to open it. He finally manages, and his pants fall to the floor. Dean’s surprised to see he’s wearing underwear, knowing the angel doesn’t like them, but those drop almost as soon.

Gabriel stands in front of him, naked, his dick standing proudly between his legs. Dean takes a good look, crouching down to pick up the plug he put there. Turning around, slowly, because he’s not gonna lie, he likes giving a good show, he braces against the tiles with one hand, while the other one pushes the plug inside his hole. It’s not difficult. He’s so open after what Gregory did, it almost feels like the plug is going to fall out.

He clenches his inner muscles around it, groaning at the sensation. He turns again, leaning back on the wall of the shower. Gabriel has the remote in hand, and he’s slowly stroking himself. This is a dangerous game they’re playing here, Dean knows it. Nobody’s drunk this time, and the chocolate is not strong enough to alter Dean’s judgment. They know what they’re doing. It’s probably not healthy, especially for Dean, after everything he’s been through. But after all the time he spent with Gabriel, he thinks that maybe he really wants the angel again. Maybe it’s helping. Maybe it’s curing him.

Gabriel gives him a look, waiting, so Dean straightens up, hands on the wall by his hips, and waits. He can come like this, without touching himself, he knows. Just looking at Gabriel running his thumb on his slit is enough to sends jolts of electric pleasure up his spine.

The plug starts vibrating inside him, and he sighs in relief, his eyes fluttering shut. He forces them open again, wanting to see everything. He needs to look at Gabriel after being blindfolded all evening long. His hips buck on their own, looking for friction, and Dean bites on his lower lip. It’s good, and he’s not gonna hold on for long.

“More,” he breathes.

Gabriel smirks, and the vibrations go up a few notches at once. Dean gasps, his thighs shaking. Just a few more seconds, and he’ll be good.

But the vibrations stop. Gabriel keeps stroking himself, faster and faster, his wrist twisting every time he reaches the crown of his dick.

“Wait for me,” he says.

Dean loses his smile. “Gabriel, I swear to God,” he growls. “You had all night to get off, if you make this about you again—“

The plug starts buzzing again, thankfully, and Dean tilts his head back, closing his eyes. The water hits his face, but he doesn’t care, he’s close, he’s coming, and as Gabriel adds another ounce of vibration, he does, his balls tightening, his ass clenching around the toy so violently his whole body heaves. He can’t do anything but let it happen, letting out a hoarse scream. Pleasure shoots up his spine in waves. His vision whitens. It doesn’t show any sign of stopping, and he keeps yelping, helpless. When it finally shows signs of slowing down, he opens his eyes, in time to see Gabriel’s thumb pushing the remote’s button up until the last setting.

“Fuck!!”

That’s the only thing he can get out when he feels another bursts of pleasure, another fucking orgasm altogether, running through him. Gabriel comes, too, dick jumping as it spills stripe after stripe of white. Dean’s eyes are glued to it. He thinks he’s going to faint.

Gabriel stops stroking his length, then, he lets his hands rest on his sides, turning the plug off. Dean slides off the wall, until his butt touches the floor. He doesn’t care if the plug’s still in his ass, he doesn’t want to remove it right away. Every time he clenches around it, his belly seems to fill with quiet waves of warmth.

Gabriel huffs through his nose, thrusting his hips forward in a stretch. He clears his throat like he wants to speak, but seems unable to get a word out.

“I… I… hum,” he stammers, before closing his mouth. “Sorry.” And then he’s walking away, quickly grabbing his clothes on his way out, closing the door behind him.

As Dean gets out of the bathroom to finally go to bed, Gabriel is sitting in front of the TV, and he doesn’t turn around. They don’t talk about it.

 

**___________________________________________________________**  

 

Shame makes an untimely appearance the next day, right when Dean wakes up and realizes he’s sporting a very natural, non-chocolate-induced morning wood.

He dreamt about Gabriel, and he wonders if there’s a connection between the dream and the hardness between his legs. He can’t think about it too much, though, because he feels his whole face catching fire as he’s reminded of all that happened the night before. Including Gabriel jerking off in front of him as Dean was having the orgasm of his life.

Eight days alone with Gabriel, that’s all it took for his body to get back into gear. Is it because he’s used to this? Maybe it’s an instinctive response, having to pretend to be a slave and all, his body can’t tell the difference. Or maybe he’s just a slut for it. He just can’t resist the angel, can he? Even if he still has some dubious feelings toward Gabriel, he can’t stop himself from wanting his dick. That’s just sad, and fucking typical of him, if he’s honest with himself. He couldn’t resist him the first time, what made him think he’d ever stop being a good little bitch, huh?

He waits until his penis calms down, and gets up, sitting down heavily in front of Gabriel who’s already on the balcony. The angel gives him a reassuring smile, and pushes a plate full of pancakes in his direction.

“Don’t worry, I ordered them. I realized I’m not a very good cook,” he laughs.

But Dean doesn’t have the heart to smile. He picks up his fork and knife, and starts cutting into the pile of pancakes. Gabriel frowns at him.

“Are you okay?”

Shrugging, Dean puts a piece of pancake in mouth. It’s good, but there’s a lump in his throat and he can barely swallow. He puts the cutlery down.

“Is it because of what happened in the bathroom? Dean, I’m sorry, I thought you were okay with it.”

“No,” Dean answers. “No, it’s… yeah. A bit. But it’s not just that.”

“Still, I should have known better, I’m sorry…”

The noise Dean’s fist makes when it crashes with the table rings in his ears. The plate of pancakes falls on the floor. Gabriel freezes.

“It’s not all about you,” Dean spits. “It’s me, okay?! I was the one who let myself get fucked in public! I was the one who liked it enough to let you…” Shit, he can’t do this. He stands up, chest heaving with every breath he takes. “I can’t even storm out because I can’t get out of this fucking room! And if I stay here with you, I know I’m gonna… I’m… Fuck!” Just for good measure, he punches the glass door behind him, the pain of it echoing in his arm. “Shit!”

He doesn’t want to cry. He really doesn’t want to do that in front of Gabriel but the tears spill like they have a mind of their own and he ends up standing in front of Gabriel, hands in front of his face to hide them.

There’s the sound of Gabriel’s chair being pushed back, followed by a hand on his arm, hesitant.

“Maybe we should go home,” Gabriel whispers.

“Fuck you,” Dean spits, rage boiling inside him again. He tears Gabriel’s hand away from his arm. “You insisted. You… You’re the one who wanted to do this. Don’t tell me I went through all this for nothing!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Dean…”

Dean wants to tell him he doesn’t care. He wants to clock the angel in the face. He wants to… wants to… do something! He chest heaves, and a sob leaves his mouth when he realizes there’s nothing he can do. He’s stuck. Again. There’s no way out.

“I’m so pathetic,” Dean half laughs, trying to wipe the tears away. But they keep falling. He’s barely listening to Gabriel, now.

 “No, you’re not. Let’s just go inside, okay?”

Dean follows Gabriel, lets him put his hand on the small of his back and push him toward the couch. Abruptly, he turns around.

“I just… I can’t do this.”

“You… you want to go home?” Gabriel frowns, confused.

“No!” Dean takes a breathe, feeling his limbs tremble with emotions now that the dam of his mind’s broken, his carefully constructed walls of self-deprecation and guilt that kept him from fully expressing his anger tore down now. “I can’t pretend anymore. This… this thing between us. I can’t pretend there’s something. I can’t!”

Gabriel still looks confused, and he tries approaching Dean again, careful. “What thing? Dean, calm down.”

“I was pretending,” Dean explains as Gabriel freezes, attentive. “I was pretending that we were good. But we’re not. I’m so not ready to do this with you, I just…” He huffs, looking around like something going to help him. But there’s nothing, no one, just a fucking black hole where his heart’s supposed to be, swallowing everything and expending with each second passing, with every breath. Fuck, how did he not break down before this?

Because right now it sure feels like he’s dying, like he’s going to crumble onto himself. Like when he’ll be done saying all the shit he wants to say there’ll be nothing left of him. “I faked it,” he tells Gabriel, turning to him again. “I faked not hating you but the truth is I just… every time I look at you, all I see is how fucking clueless you are. I can’t stand he way you just walk around like you’re making things right, like you’re making a difference! But you’re not. You’re fucking delusional!”

Now Gabriel looks angry. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“From that time you had me whipped until I passed out, maybe,” Dean laughs, feeling crazy. “Or maybe from the time you gave me to your brother. Or from the time he raped me to get back at you. Or the time you tried to get my brother to play the slave for you. I don’t know. Guess!”

“Dean…”

“No! No, you don’t get to say you’re sorry again,” Dean spits. “Because you know what? I don’t care that you’re sorry. You can cram your fucking apologies up your ass!”

He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He actually prepared a speech, something cold and collected. Something good. But it doesn’t come up, because Dean forgot all about it. He forgot his words, because he’s angry, and devastated. All Gabriel has done suddenly comes back, crashing into Dean’s mind. It’s like he’s done them all over again, but all at once.

“I don’t care that you regret it and you wouldn’t do it again,” he says. He’s pacing, now, looking at the floor. He’s a mess. He’s crying, his voice wavering as he speak, and he feels so angry he thinks he might burst into flames. “Every night I dream about him, you know?” He suddenly looks up, eager to see Gabriel’s reaction to what he’s telling him. “Lucifer. I dream about him. Sometimes you’re here, just standing on the side and looking at us while he…” He stops. Shit, he’s shaking.

A blink, and the tears blurring his vision fall. He can see Gabriel again. The angel’s frozen in place, expression blank. Dean’s running out of things to say. He doesn’t want to say any more. He’s spilling his guts out to a guy who probably doesn’t give two shit, and he’s crying and laughing at the same time. God, he must look awful. Finally, when he sees Dean’s not going to say more, Gabriel sighs, and he looks like he’s coming back to life.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Dean burst out. “You can’t do anything, stop trying, okay? Stop pretending you… stop acting like you care, okay?”

“I do care.”

“No, no you don’t! You don’t do shit like making breakfast or… or talking me through my shit. You just don’t. This isn’t you, and it’ll never be, so stop acting like you’re going to change for me, alright?”

Dean’s breathing is erratic, but he forces himself to breathe through his nose, and get his heart to calm down. He wipes the tears off his face with the back of his hand and stands taller.

“We investigate,” he breathes, careful not to raise his voice. “If I have to do some weird shit, I will. But stop… please stop acting like that. It’s not… not helping.”

Swallowing like something’s stuck in his throat, Gabriel nods. His voice is gentle, low, like he’s talking to a frightened animal.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

“Just… just an hour. Just. I need some time alone.”

“I understand.”

Dean stays where he is, closing his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at Gabriel, doesn’t want to see the apology written all over his face. He just can’t stand seeing the angel like this. It’s not him. It’s not the Gabriel he knew when he was a slave. And it scares the shit out of him, for some reason.

Hearing the door closing behind Gabriel as he leaves is a relief. Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself now. With all those feelings. He wants them to go away, he wants the walls that protected him to go up again. But they don’t. So he just stands where he is, and he waits, letting the tears spill out, hoping some of the pain will fall out with them.

 

**___________________________________________________________**  

 

When Gabriel comes back a few hours later, Dean’s sitting on the floor of the balcony, leaning back against the glass and looking at the sky, bottle of wine in hand. He brings the bottle to his mouth when he hears Gabriel coming to him, taking a long sip.

“What are you doing?”

Dean doesn’t look up. Instead, he gives the bottle a look. It’s almost empty.

“Drinkin’ your expensive as fuck wine. Doesn’t even taste that good.”

Gabriel sighs, walking in front of him and dragging a chair from the table to where Dean’s sitting.

“You’re drunk.”

“Damn right I am,” Dean answers, finally giving Gabriel a look. “I think I’m owed it ‘fter last night.”

Gabriel just stares for a moment, before opening his mouth.

“We need to talk.”

“If it’s about Alastair, yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” Gabriel answers, sitting down. “But you stop drinking first.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Don’t own me anymore. ’m not your thing. I can do whatever I want.” Dean takes another swig, finishing the bottle. “ ‘sides, I’m not that drunk. And, eh,” he laughs, “bottle’s empty now.”

Clumsily, Dean stands up. He trips on his feet a little, and huffs. Surely, he’s not _that_ drunk yet. It’s just wine, for fuck’s sake! But maybe rich people’s wine is way stronger than regular people’s wine. Whatever. Dean throws his hands in the air, ignoring Gabriel as he steps inside.

The angel calls after him, “where are you going?”

“Uh,” Dean let’s out once he’s standing in front of the bar. “Grabbin’ ‘nother drink. What d’ya think?”

He hesitates in front of the open door of the mini bar, and settles for another bottle of wine, white this time. He turns around, walks around the coffee table and collapses on the couch.

“We need to talk, Dean,” Gabriel repeats.

Dean notices he followed Dean around, and he’s now standing next to the couch, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“ ‘m listenin’,” Dean answers.

Gabriel seems to want to argue some more, but he gives up mid-way through opening his mouth, huffing. There’s a stiffness to his posture, like he forgot how to behave like a breathing creature, which Dean takes as a sign of irritation. Good. At least he’s not the only one being pissed off, now.

“Last night wasn’t for nothing,” the angel finally says. He walks around Dean’s feet and sits on the couch. “Val is going to get me an… appointment, as he put it, with Alastair.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but he’s too busy trying to open the bottle up without a corkscrew.

“But he said we’d have to put on a show when it happens. You and me.”

That gets Dean’s full attention. “Like you’ll have to fuck me? In front of Alastair?”

“No, I don’t think it’ll go that far,” Gabriel answers. “But,” he clears his throat, “I’ll have to prove I have you completely subdued… like, do something to prove you’re completely mine.”

It almost sounds absurd. Dean giggles, handing Gabriel the bottle. “Open this up for me, will you?”

“Dean, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Sighing, a bit too dramatically, Gabriel takes the bottle from Dean, and the cork pops out of the neck of the bottle, landing a few feet away. Dean takes the bottle back, and drinks, taking a small sip, letting the bitter taste linger on his tongue. Not bad.

Gabriel is still staring at him expectantly.

“Do you understand what I’m saying? We’ll have to—“

“Why?”

Gabriel blinks. “Why what?”

“Why do you have to prove that I can behave, or whatever?”

Because if there’s one thing Dean’s not ready to do is let Gabriel touch him. Would take a lot of chocolates to let that happen.

“They don’t trust me,” Gabriel says. “My guess is, if I can prove myself this way… I’m hoping they’ll start believing me. They know you escaped once. They’re prudent, you know that.”

Dean snorts. “That’s bullshit.” _You’re so desperate to touch me you have to invent some stupid as fuck excuses_ , he thinks.

He doesn’t say it, but maybe Gabriel heard him, heard his thoughts, judging by the way his mouth quirks down.

“You really hate me, huh?”

Dean’s surprised, and so he doesn’t say anything, taking a mouthful of wine instead.

“Why are you doing this? Helping me,” Gabriel goes on.

“The truth?” Gabriel nods, so Dean puts the bottle down between his thighs, running a hand through his hair and looking away. “Because if it wasn’t me, Sam would be sitting here instead,” he drawls. “I’m not helping you. I’m helping the others. Chances are, if Michael comes back, you’ll be happy. Which means you’ll pay more attention to the others, and that’ll make them happy. And if we can dig up shit on Alastair, get him, uh, arrested, or whatever it is that the Council will do to him, then maybe Sam will stop with his weird ass obsession with demons, and he’ll be happy. And if Sam’s happy, then I can get the hell away from you.” He brings the bottle to his mouth, adding almost as an afterthought, “And then I’ll be happy.”

That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? In the end, all Dean wants is to be happy. To stop feeling like there’s a gaping hole in his chest where his dignity used to be. His dignity, and lots of other things he feels he lost in the last year. He sighs, taking another sip. Now’s not the time to think about all this crap.

“And anyway, you should be happy about it, too,” he says again.

It’s like his mouth has a mind of its own, now. He knows he gets babbly when he drinks too much. Wine’s gonna give him one hell of a headache, too. He knows it was a bad idea. He drinks from the bottle again, anyway, checking from the corner of his eyes the expression on Gabriel’s face. The angel’s not saying anything, like he doesn’t dare to.

“I mean,” he goes on, “you should hate me. I ruined your life. Now you have to deal with free people who don’t know what to do with themselves, Lucifer’s dead, Michael’s in heaven jail, or whatever… and it’s all because of me. So when I leave… I’m pretty sure you’ll be relieved, too.”

He gives Gabriel a cocky look, like he doesn’t really care. Truth is, it fucking hurts to know he fucked up this badly. But he can’t go back, now, can he? If only he’d listened to Sam on that night, more than a year ago. None of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have been captured by the angels, and sold to Gabriel. The others would still be enslaved, yes. But Gabriel was a nice Master, before Dean came in. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad.

“Don’t say that,” Gabriel breathes. 

Which just makes Dean laugh, humorlessly. “It’s true. If you hadn’t bought me, you wouldn’t be in the shit you’re in now.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Well, bummer.”

Dean drinks again, and realizes half the bottle’s gone, already. He’s pleasantly light-headed. It makes this whole conversation easier. They sit in silence, not looking at each other. It gets heavy, and uncomfortable, but Dean’s resolute not to break it first.

“There’s no angel here,” Gabriel suddenly says.

Dean gives him a questioning look.

“In the hotel… or at least this part of the hotel. I’ve only seen demons. I think they’re gathering for something.”

So that’s what Gabriel wants to do. Ignore all the sentimental bullshit Dean just spewed on him and talk business. That’s fine with Dean. He’s not like Sam, anyway. He doesn’t know how to talk his feelings out. Everything he’d say would only make things worse, anyway.

Instead he asks, “Like they’re having a reunion?”

Gabriel nods. “Val manages this hotel, but Nash manages another in town, not far from here. Crowley manages the one at home, that we know… so I was thinking that it could be linked to what we’re after.”

Dean doesn’t get it right away. The wheels in his brain turn slower, held back by all the wine. Then it’s like someone turned on a switch.

“You think they’re all under Alastair’s command. The clubs are their cover.”

Gabriel nods again, relaxing minutely now that Dean’s listening properly.

“I don’t know what they’re covering,” he says, looking more and more alive as he speaks, “but it has to do with that slave thing I noticed, I’m sure of it.”

“You haven’t noticed anything,” Dean counters. “You just think they have too many slaves.”

He’s skeptic, he can’t help it. This is no proof.

“Dean, if I fail to get close to Alastair…” Gabriel trails off.

Dean doesn’t graces him with the question he’s asking for, and instead looks away, drinking again.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, I get it. If you don’t get close to Alastair then we’re fucked.”

“No. There’s a plan B.” And he seems to get that Dean’s not going to play along, so he lets out a breath, which doesn’t come as a good sign for Dean, and speaks again. “You need to get close to Val. He likes you.”

Dean turns his head so fast it snaps. Gabriel just shrugs. “You already hate me, right? So yes. I’m suggesting exactly what you think. You were the one who said people don’t pay attention to their slaves. You could hear something interesting.”

“No. No fucking way,” Dean bursts.

He stands up, skin crawling with… something. Something uneasy, that makes him want to stay as far away from Gabriel as he can. “I can’t believe you’re… do you even know what you’re asking me to do? Fuck!”

He almost throws the bottle, still in his hand, against a wall. But he doesn’t. He’s scared someone will come running if he does.

“Well, we’re not there yet. I haven’t met Alastair. But if it doesn’t pan out…” Gabriel sighs. Dean can’t even look at him. How can he stay so calm? “Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

Dean takes another swig, just to keep his mouth occupied this time. Shit, he can’t do this. He can’t stay cooped up here with Gabriel for another two weeks. He won’t survive it.

“You’re unbelievable,” he spits. He wants to tell the angel to go fuck himself, but that would be stupid. Or childish. “I’m going to bed,” he says instead.

Taking the bottle with him, he strides to the bedroom, closing the curtains hanging on the side of the archway behind him. There’s nothing more to talk about, anyway. Dean will try to ignore his feelings from now on, he thinks as he sits in the dark. He’ll push them deep inside himself, and he won’t let them affect him like they did today. That way, he’ll be more efficient. This whole thing will be done sooner. He needs it to be done sooner. He needs to be free.

 


	6. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that took way too long to write! But it's here now! Yay! I hope next chapter won't take as long. In the meantime, enjoy this one! Thanks for bearing with me, and thank you to my awesome beta, Lisa, without whom I'd probably be posting half-assed chapters that barely make sense.

# CHAPTER 6 : On The Road Again

Dean stays in bed for a long while the next morning, looking up at the ceiling and trying not to think too much. Truth is, he doesn’t know if he’ll have enough strength to go through the whole three weeks of undercover work. He misses his freedom, for one thing. He misses Sam. He misses Meg, and the others. Hell, he even misses Cas and the stick up his ass.

Anybody but Gabriel would be better company, if Dean’s honest. Gabriel is complicated. Dean has dubious feelings toward him. Anger, resentment, hate sometimes. But he also feels empathy depending on the moments, feelings of old friendship maybe, buried deep inside himself. Something else, too, a warmth, in the pit of his stomach. And he wants to touch the angel, almost all the time. He can’t stand it, though. And he doesn’t know how to behave anymore.

He’d rather not get out of bed, but he figures he has to face Gabriel one time or another, and he’d rather do it now, and get over this weird anxiety he’s been having since yesterday.

He sits up on the bed, legs sliding from under the covers onto the floor, and the slight ache pulsing dully behind his eyelids seems to wake up all of a sudden. It’s like a flash of pain, and he closes his eyes, groaning. Right. He drank last night. A lot. Wine gives him the worst headaches. Christ. He shouldn’t have.

Reluctantly, he stands up, and drags his feet to the balcony outside. The morning sun burns hot, making him nauseous. Or maybe it’s the sight of Gabriel, sitting in front of a copious breakfast, reading the news like nothing happened the night before. Who knows.

Gabriel looks up as Dean sits down. “Sleep well?”

Dean’s only answer is a noncommittal snort. He reaches over and pulls Gabriel’s plate toward himself. The angel doesn’t need to eat, anyway. He doesn’t see why all the demons and angels have that weird obsession with meals. He puts a forkful of eggs inside his mouth and freezes. He’s going to hurl.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you want me to take care of that hangover for you?”

Dean hesitates, but not for long. He’s about to throw up in his mouth. He nods. There’s a certain smugness in the way Gabriel leans over, putting two fingers on Dean’s forehead, slowly, head tilted on the side, and Dean would probably punch him in the face if he could move without feeling like his head is going to explode. When finally Grace flows into him, chasing the hungover away, the moment has passed. He’ll have plenty of occasions to hit the angel, that’s a sure bet. Everything he does these days makes Dean uneasy, anyway.

“Thanks,” he sighs, more out of habits than gratitude.

It’s the only thing Dean says to Gabriel, and the angel doesn’t try to make conversation either. Dean eats, Gabriel reads the papers, and leaves. Which is a relief, actually. But it gives Dean some time to think. And the more he thinks, the shittier he feels. Because he knows whatever it is Gabriel wants him to do when they meet Alastair, he won’t be able to do it. He can’t get an erection, that’s a fact. And it’s not really the problem, anyway. The problem is, he’s not sure he can handle another man touching him. Meg is okay, because she’s Meg. And she’s a woman. But anybody with a penis feels like a threat to Dean, now, even when they have no interest in him. Even when _he_ has no _interest in them_. Hell, even Bobby scares the shit out of him sometimes, when he wants to be nice and paternal and pat Dean on the shoulder to thank him when Dean helps.

Fuck, but he has to get used to it, somehow. He’s not gonna live the rest of his life without sex. Nuh uh. He can’t stand the idea of sex, he’s even a little disgusted by it sometimes, but somehow he can’t stand the idea of never having sex again. He needs to… to train, somehow. Train his body to get used to another human being’s touch again.

Shit, okay.

That’s not a bad idea, he thinks as he sits in front of an umpteenth reality tv show that he’s not even watching. He can do it. He can find someone who’ll help him. Someone who won’t say no. Maybe he’ll have to pay but… yes. No. Yes.

He knows just the one guy, he can't even stand to think about him, what he wants to ask.  It’s just… he doesn’t know. It scares the shit out of him, suddenly. But he knows he could ask _him_. H

e could ask Gregory.

He seems like a good guy, he'd probably want to help. He’s still here, he told Dean he was going to stay for a little while. Dean could go see him.  He needs to think about it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

Room three-fourteen.

Right. Dean’s standing right in front of the door, the golden numbers embedded on it taunting him, daring him to knock. He’s nervous. But he figures, it’s completely normal. He shouldn’t be this worked up. He shouldn’t be shaking. And why are his palms so sweaty? Christ…

He takes a breath, exhales in one go. And he knocks.

Obviously, Gregory doesn’t answer the door right away. Maybe he isn’t even here. Maybe he’s in the shower? Deas knocks again, harder this time.

“Coming,” Gregory says right before he opens the door. There’s a second where Dean can clearly see that he’s surprised, and then a bright smile settles on his face. “Dean! What are you doing here?”

Dean huffs a laughs, uncomfortable. “I, uh… wanted to ask you something if you’ve got the time?”

“Sure,” Gregory answers, stepping on the side, “please, come in.”

“Thanks.”

“So, how are you?”

“Good, good,” Dean answers as he follows him inside the room.

It’s way more modest than Gabriel’s, and Dean stands awkwardly as Gregory sits on the edge of his bed, in front of the TV, looking around like he’s taking in the sights. There’s a rerun of Dr Sexy on TV, one of Dean’s rare indulgence, but in this moment he can’t even focus enough to guess which episode it is this time.

Gregory pats the space next to him on the bed. “Don’t stand there, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” Dean breathes. He clears his throat, and sits down. And nothing comes out. He doesn’t know how to start this conversation. Gregory waits, patient. He looks at Dean with his trade-mark smile in place, and Dean is lost. “I, uh…”

He fidgets with his tunic, hands in his lap, trying to come up with a way to start. He can’t ask Gregory right away to sleep with him. He doesn’t have much money, but maybe they can come up with an arrangement? He can maybe ask Gregory how he’s been since… well. Since two nights ago. No. That’s just… Dean huffs in frustration, and crosses a leg above the other.

“Do you want some pants? I can lend you a pair,” Gregory says, standing up. He walks around the bed, crouching down to rummage through his suitcase.

Dean doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He uncrosses his legs, suddenly self-conscious, and takes the pair of sweatpants from Gregory’s hands, keeping it folded in his lap. Gregory sits down again, and waits.

“Thanks, but, hum…” he looks down, trying to sound cool and collected. “I won’t need it if you… I mean… I wanted to… shit.” He closes his eyes, inhales, and opens them again to look at Gregory. “I need your help. I have money. Not here, but…” he trails off.

Blinking in surprise, Gregory leans over. “You mean you want to buy my services?”

Dean nods.

“Why? Aren’t you and Gabriel—“

“No,” Dean interrupts. “No, we’re not… there was never anything between Gabriel and me. I’m just here to help, okay? But I can’t… not in that department.”

Gregory tilts his head on the side, and squints. He’s not judgmental, so Dean relaxes a little.

“Okay,” Gregory finally says. “But you’ll have to explain to me why someone like you,” he eyes Dean from head to toe, “would want to pay for a prostitute when I’m sure you don’t need me to get laid.”

Dean sighs. “I just… okay, you don’t know.” And now he’s anxious because he has to explain what happened to him. He looks right, left, then in front of him, searching for something to look at while he tells Gregory what happened. Dr Sexy is still on. His vision blurs, but he pretends he’s looking at it. “Stuff happened. When I was… when Gabriel still owned me. He gave me to his brother, Lucifer.” In his peripheral vision, he sees Gregory shift. “I, uh… it was awful. And…” shit, he’s not going to cry. “Long story short I got out. Gabriel got me out, and ever since I can’t… I can’t stand people touching me. I can’t… I can’t get it up.”

He feels his cheeks heat up, but he tries to ignore it. Gregory is still, sitting beside him, and Dean waits. It was stupid. He shouldn’t have come here.

“I can’t… heal you, Dean,” Gregory says, softly.

“I know,” Dean answers, frowning. “I’m not looking for a cure I just…” finally, he turns to Gregory, looking at a point above his head, not able to look him in the eyes. “I want to get used to people touching me.” And then, before Gregory can open his mouth: “We’re meeting Alastair soon.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, _oh_ , Dean thinks. His eyes finally settle on Gregory’s face. Gregory’s lost his usual smile, and he’s staring at Dean. His eyes are thoughtful.

Dean clears his throat again. “So you’ll help me?”

“I don’t know if I can, Dean.”

“I have money.”

“I don’t want your money.” And despite the situation, Gregory smiles gently. “I was only supposed to stay for a couple of days but they changed their mind, they booked me for the whole three weeks of their convention. I’m pretty sure it’s gonna get me through a semester or two.” He looks away, leaning back on his hands. “I don’t need your money. But I don’t know if I’m really the answer to your problem.”

Dean wants to nod. He wants to tell Gregory that it’s okay, that it was a bad idea anyway, that he’ll leave him alone now. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is a broken “Please…”

The silence is only broken by the sweet pop music coming from the TV. Dean wants to leave, but he can’t move. His fists tightens around the fabric of the sweatpants still in his hands, and he waits, heart pounding into his chest. It’s completely ridiculous. It’s just sex, and Gregory and him already fooled around. But it feels different this time, important.

“Alright,” Gregory lets out. “I’ll try. S’not like I don’t like you, anyway. Shouldn’t be too much of a chore.” He smiles, and Dean huffs, relieved.

Now nervousness settles in, making his heart beat in his throat. “So… how do we do this?”

“Well,” Gregory says, leaning over Dean and taking the sweatpants from his hands, throwing them on the side. He comes close, slowly, until their noses are almost touching. “Can I?”

Swallowing, Dean nods. “S-sure.”

Gregory smiles, reassuringly, and presses his lips on Dean’s. He doesn’t push, just waits, and so Dean moves when his initial burst of panic disappears. Gregory’s lips are hot, but soft. He tastes like peaches, which is surprising, but Dean likes it.

When he pulls away, Dean blinks, surprised, and he almost follows Gregory’s mouth. Gregory smiles. “Okay?”

Dean nods again. “Okay.”

This time it’s Dean who leans forward and kisses Gregory. Gregory laughs into the kiss, his hands reaching slowly for Dean’s cheek. Dean almost flinches, but he focuses on Gregory’s tongue on his lower lip instead, and manages not to move. Tentatively, he puts his hand on Gregory’s thigh, and holds on to it as if his life depended on it.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Gregory breathes into Dean’s mouth. “I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do, so you won’t be surprised. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, catching Gregory’s mouth again.

It’s nice. It’s all good and nice and Dean doesn’t want to stop because if the kisses stop then that means something else is starting and Dean doesn’t know if he can go through with it. He’s suddenly aware that his whole body is slightly shaking but he ignores it.

“And if you want to stop,” Gregory goes on, “just tell me, okay?”

Dean hums.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Gregory is gentle, first touching Dean on the cheek, the neck, the arm. Then he goes down, hand on Dean’s knee, running his thumb lightly on Dean’s skin, until Dean relaxes enough that he lets Gregory push him up the bed. When Dean’s head hit the pillow, though, his nerves get the better of him again, and he tenses. Gregory lies on his side, next to Dean, not pressing him into the mattress, just running his hand on Dean’s arm and knee alternatively. He plants kisses on the line of Dean’s neck, avoiding his collar, until he reaches his ear.

“I’m going to slide my hand up to your hips, now.”

Dean closes his eyes, and nods. Gregory does just what he said, slowly. His hand is warm, firm on Dean’s thigh, his thumb grazing the skin gently in contrast, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I sure wish I had some of those chocolates right about now,” Dean laughs nervously.

Gregory smiles. “I’m sure you don’t mean that.”

“No,” Dean breathes. “But they help. I’m sorry I’m so... I don’t know. Nervous.”

Shifting his position a little so he can give Dean a quick peck on the lips, Gregory stops his hand just shy of Dean’s hip. “It’s okay, I understand. If you want me to stop I will.”

“No. No, no, I’m fine! I’m just…” he lets out a breath, trying to relax. “I’ll manage. I want to do it.”

“Maybe if we both take off a layer or two it’ll be easier,” Gregory suggests.

“Right. Right, yeah. Okay,” Dean whispers, trying to sit up to take off his tunic.

Gregory stops him, and leans over him to kiss him again. His tongue pushes against Dean’s lips, so Dean opens his mouth, letting him take over. Gregory’s hand goes up again, pulling Dean’s tunic as he does so, until they have to pull apart to let Dean take it off completely. Gregory takes the opportunity to take off his t-shirt, too.

TV’s still on, but Dean barely hears it. He tries to empty his mind, let his thoughts float away. One of the ways to do that is to pull at Gregory’s neck blindly and kiss him until he’s lying on top of Dean, erection poking into Dean’s thigh. Dean’s heart goes wild when he feels it.

“Dean…” Gregory breathes, pulling away. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” Dean groans.

He tries to find Gregory’s lips again, but Gregory pushes him away. “You’re not. You’re scared. It’s okay, we have time. We can take a breather or two.”

“I…” Dean lets out a puff of air. He _is_ shaking. Fuck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gregory sighs. He keeps stroking Dean’s arm gently, coming up to pull at his chin so Dean will look at him. “You did nothing wrong.”

Dean looks away. He huffs a laugh, the small smirk on his lips never reaching his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t…”

Gregory keeps staring at him, and Dean turn his head toward the TV. He feels worthless, useless. He came here to help and he can’t. That’s it. He can’t even make it with someone he knows and appreciate. Tears start prickling at his eyes. He holds them back.

“Now,” Gregory says, “I’m gonna get naked. And you can, too, if you feel comfortable enough.”

Dean nods, and focuses on him again. He simply watches as Gregory pushes down his pants. He’s wearing nothing underneath, which is actually not very surprising, considering the man. Gregory smiles as he stretches out, showing off, staring right at Dean. There’s a faint blush coming to Dean’s cheeks, but he smiles. He tries not to advert his eyes. Gregory is beautiful, so it’s easy to get lost in the sight of him. His heart is still beating vehemently against his ribcage, but it gets easier to ignore it. As Gregory puts a knee on the bed, Dean reaches for his underwear.

“Wait,” Gregory says, falling on all fours to get closer to him, “can I?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

Dean’s not sure he can handle it, until Gregory positions himself above him, giving him a lewd smirk, and kisses a patch of skin next to his belly button. Goosebumps rise on his skin, and he knows it should trigger a reaction in his neither region, but nothing moves down there. He takes a breath, nodding when Gregory gives him a questioning look, silently asking if he can go on.

“Maybe if you close your eyes and focus on what I’m doing it’ll be easier,” Gregory suggests.

Dean does, just as Gregory pulls down on his shorts. The sudden burst of air tingle his skin, but he knows he’s completely soft. Suddenly, he’s embarrassed. He wants to hide, and without even thinking about it, his knees try to fold up. Gregory runs a hand on his thigh, dropping a kiss on the inside of his knee.

“It’s okay, Dean, relax.”

Dean huffs. “Easy to say.”

“I know,” Gregory whispers in Dean’s skin, “but please, try. It’s just some piece of fun, okay? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“I know.”

Dean keeps his eyes closed, and just _breathes_. Feels. Gregory’s mouth overs just above his shaft. He’s just breathing, dropping a kiss next to it, coming back, then going away. Again, and again, until Dean feels a tingle of desire in his lower belly.

Without warning, he licks a stripe up Dean’s cock. Dean’s breath hitches. He can feel some pleasure from it. Gregory keeps going, slowly, taking his time running his tongue on Dean’s skin, before taking him in mouth. But nothing gives. After what feels like some very long minutes, Dean’s not even half hard. He opens his eyes, fighting the tears.

“Stop.”

He hides his face behind his hands, head spinning with shame.

“Hey, don’t hide,” Gregory says gently, taking Dean’s hands away from his face.

But Dean’s so ashamed he can’t look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

Sitting back on his heels, Gregory tilts his head, curious.

“What happened to you, Dean?”

Hesitating, Dean chews on his lips, looking away before he answers. “Stuff. Bad stuff.”

“You’ve been abused,” Gregory states, quiet. Then, with a sigh, “I’m sorry. I know what they do… I help them do it, sometimes.” It’s the first time Dean sees Gregory look anything else than happy. There’s actual guilt on his face, and he stares down at his hands in his lap, before offering Dean a sad smile. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Dean. Truly.”

Dean blinks, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he changes the subject. It’s a jerk move, but he can’t help it. He hates seeing pity in people’s eyes, especially directed at him. “Why do you keep doing this if you feel bad about it?”

“Easy money,” Gregory sighs. “I know it’s not… I mean I could have an honest job. But It’d pay a lot less, and I’d have to work a lot more and I just… I’m lazy.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s a bad excuse, I know.”

“It’s a job like any other,” Dean answers. Now he feels bad for making Gregory feel bad. “And you do what you have to to pay for school, so I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Gregory smiles, sheepish. “Thanks. But I believe we were talking about you.”

Dean huffs.

“And you don’t like it, I get it,” Gregory goes on. “But I think I know what could help, maybe.”

“What?”

“Gabriel.”

Dean almost starts at the name. His first reflex is to hide his crotch. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything, yet.”

“Yeah, well, the answer’s no,” Dean bursts, sliding from the bed. He recovers the sweatpants from the floor and puts them on. “I don’t want him to help.”

“Dean,” Gregory says. He waits for Dean to find his eyes before he goes on. “How long have you been a slave before being freed?”

“I don’t see what it has to do with anything.”

“Please, humor me.”

It’s a weird question, and Dean’s more confused than anything else by now, wondering where Gregory wants to go with this. He just feels like a fucking virgin on her first time and the only thing he wants to do is go and hide back in his room. But he opens his mouth anyway, sitting back on the bed.

“About a year. I didn’t count.”

“Right,” Gregory goes on. “And now you have to pretend again, but you didn’t really have time to adjust between the moment you were set free and now, am I right?”

Dean nods, still not knowing what Gregory means. Yes, he spent the last year with Gabriel, after Gabriel bought him at a slave auction, then convinced Dean, God only knows how, to become his fucktoy, and finally gave Dean up to his psycho brother Lucifer when he got fed up. It’s a quick way of summarizing the events of the last months, and, yeah, maybe Dean’s biased now because he resents Gabriel so much. But he lost a lot, and Gabriel ruined everything they could have. If there was something to have between them in the first place. But Dean doesn’t see what his time as a slave has to do with anything. It was a short year of his life. One small year of enslavement in a lifetime of freedom.

Gregory inhales before he tries to explain himself.

“So, maybe your body still reacts the way it did when you were a slave, you know? It needs your Master’s approval to do anything. And even though you know Gabriel has no say in what you do anymore, your brain still can’t make the difference when it comes to sex. Because you’re used to people bossing you around in that area.”

Somehow, it makes a bit of sense. Dean relaxes a little, considering the thought. Until Gregory starts talking again.

“We should call Gabriel, try something with hi—“

“No!” Dean stands up again, feeling the need to stay as far from Gregory as possible. “I can’t, okay? I just… can’t.”

He wants to add ‘Please, don’t make me’, but hold back at the very last second. Gregory raises his hands in the air, placating.

“Alright. I’m sorry. We won’t call him.”

The sounds from the TV seem really loud, now. They stare at each other, Dean tense and feeling like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin with anxiety. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe it, because he knows somehow Gregory’s probably right. Either that, or it’s some kind of PTSD syndrome from his time with Lucifer. Or a bit of both. He’s fucked. He won’t ever be normal again. He won’t be able to let another human being touch him, unless he’s high on magical Viagra. Story of his life, really.

Finally, it’s Gregory who breaks the awkward silence between them.

“D’you wanna hang out for a while?”

Dean blinks. “I…” He feels his whole body go lax again. It’s not what he was expecting, but, well… “Yeah. Sounds nice.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-  

 

 “Greg?”

“Hm?”

Gregory’s focused on the documentary about plane crashes they’ve been watching for the last thirty minutes. Dean, now wearing Gregory’s sweatpants, is nursing a beer. He can’t say what happened to the plane in this episode. He wasn’t really paying attention.

“How do you…” he starts. Gregory turns to him, suddenly interested. Like what Dean’s going to say is important. He always looks so interested in everything. Dean wonders how he does it. “How can you let people do all those things to you without… I don’t know, going crazy or something?”

Gregory looks surprised for a moment, and his gaze darts away. He’s thinking about it like it’s the first time someone asked him this.

“When I first decided I was going to sell my body to pay for my studies I was kinda desperate,” he answers, still looking away. “But I was excited at the same time. I guess I always thought about it, about how it would be.” He looks at Dean again, smiling gently. “I was lucky the first time around. Got recommended by a friend I met in a gay bar. I mostly do men, obviously, I mean,” he gives Dean a luscious smirk, but somehow it’s not creepy, and Dean huffs a laugh, “but my first client was a woman who wanted some good times after years of grieving her husband, so I said yes, and it went well. I took on a couple of clients a month, at first, just enough to get me started, make a name for myself. It was easy at first because I liked my clients. Even when they weren’t physically my types, they were all nice and educated, and I’ve had some fun times with them.”

He looks down. “There were some bad clients, too. It comes with the work, so I learned to expect them, and prepare myself I guess.” He looks up again, and this time there’s a spark of determination in his eyes that Dean’s never seen before. “I started selecting my clients more carefully once I was established. I dabbled in some bdsm clubs, did things with friends, other prostitutes, you know? So that helped too. And that’s how I met my first angelic client.”

Dean can’t help himself. He doesn’t want to interrupt, but curiosity takes over. “And demons?”

Gregory nods. “Demons came not long after. Some are actually decent for… well, for demons. They just want to fuck and they’d rather have someone who knows what they’re doing instead of slaves who get sloppy because of fear or injuries or… you know.”

Dean hums in understanding.

“Anyway,” Gregory goes on, “it’s weird sometimes, and it’s degrading. It’s more degrading with angels and demons that regular humans, like you and me because they just… don’t get it. They don’t know how to feel, I mean. And when they do it kinda fucks them up. Their way of thinking is too far away from ours, they just can’t think about anything but themselves. And once you know that… it gets easier. You can set up things in advance, make them sign contract, specifying things you know they’ll do and you don’t want, that way they have limits. If you don’t draw the line they won’t know it’s here. They have no concept for those kinds of things.”

Dean nods, and tries to understand what Gregory means. “What about Gabriel?”

“Gabriel is the same,” Gregory says with a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him. I wouldn’t have worked for him for years if I didn’t. In some way he tries, and that’s the difference between angels and demons. Sometimes angels try to get us. Some of them succeed, some don’t.”

“And he does?”

“He does, sometimes,” Gregory shrugs. “And sometimes he doesn’t. But I think he’s getting there. I think you helped.”

Dean snorts. Right. Like he’s special in some way. That’s what everybody seems to think. He’s tired of it. He just wants a normal life, a normal libido, far from angels and demons and slavery.

“I know you think he doesn’t get it because of what he did with you,” Gregory says, and Dean raises a curious eyebrow at him. “He thinks he can only have sex in a specific context, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

Because he knows. It took him months to convince Gabriel he didn’t need to tie Dean up to be able to have some fun with him, and even more time after that to convince the archangel they could have proper, vanilla sex without clothes or gags or restraints or anything but the both of them, and that it could be as great and as fun as all the things Gabriel had Dean do.

“He has to understand the concept of consent, since he’s an angel,” Gregory muses. “But maybe the words ‘Safe’ and ‘Sane’ sometimes elude him. Even the ‘Consensual’ part is something he has trouble with sometimes, but it’s really subtle. That’s why I don’t say anything. I guess I should have, though, huh?”

He looks guilty for a second before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Dean’s curiosity’s piqued, once again.

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” Gregory says, gesturing at nothing. “How he’ll say things like ‘of course you can’ when you tell him you can’t do something… if you don’t explicitly tell him to stop for example, he won’t. He doesn’t like safewords, he thinks they’re stupid.”

Dean remembers the very uncomfortable discussion he had about those with Gabriel. “Yeah. But at least he does stop when you tell him to…”

“Only if he hears you…” He gives Dean a knowing look, “and he thinks he can’t have sex like regular people, when I’m fairly sure he’s just slightly asexual, like most angels by the way…”

Yeah, Dean noticed. It’s so accurate it makes him chuckle.

“But he’s a fast learner. And I think you can help him with all those little problems,” Gregory adds.

Dean thinks about it. Maybe. But the question is, does he want to? Can he? It’s not even a question of changing Gabriel. It’s a question of whether or not Dean can make it till the end of the convention here, and help with getting Alastair arrested without losing his sanity.

“I just…” he breathes. “I just want to get through this first and then… I don’t know. I don’t think I want to stick around to see if he can turn into a decent person, honestly.” He hesitates. Gregory likes Gabriel. But he can't keep it in any longer. “I can’t stand the sight of him,” Dean whispers. “And at the same time I can’t stand it when he’s not paying attention to me, it’s like…” he trails off.

He doesn’t even know how to end this sentence.

“Help me,” he croaks, helpless and fighting the tears, staring at Gregory. “You know how to treat this as a job, so teach me how to do that, too. Please.”

Gregory considers, chewing on his lower lip, before letting out a breath. He hums, straightening up.

“You watch porn sometimes, I suppose?”

Taken aback, Dean stammers a loud, “Wh-what? Why?” and Gregory gives him a knowing smile. “I, uh, yes. Yeah, why?”

“Well, selling your body is slightly like being a porn actor. If you script your interactions with people, then it almost becomes porn. You need to think about yourself as an actor someone hired to be someone else, to pretend you’re a slave, or to pretend you enjoy being watched, or whatever it is you’re asked to do.”

Interesting. “Okay, go on.”

Gregory turns to Dean completely, folding his legs under himself. “You’ll need to perform for Alastair, with Gabriel, right?” Dean nods. “Well, think about it this way, what if you and Gabriel were porn actors, it would be different, right? Because even if you’re not attracted to anyone, if you were an actor you’d still have sex with him. You’d take something, I assume, to get you going. It wouldn’t solve your underlying problem, but I think it would make it easier if you and Gabriel plan your every move. Everything he’s going to do, every moan, every touch, every orgasms if need be. You know what’s going to happen at every moment, which means you’re in control. There’s nothing to fear because you’ve planned everything, you understand?”

Dean hums in assent. “That’s how you do it?”

“That’s what I did in the beginning. Or when I’m doing things like I did the other night. With the slave boy.”  

Guilt again. Dean nods, considering. “Okay. I’ll think about it.” 

Gregory smiles, “good.”

“Okay…” Dean repeats. He takes a swig of his beer, and tries to entertain the thought. Christ, he has no imagination when it comes to this. “What… how do you plan something so fucked up, though?”

“I don’t know…” Gregory shrugs. “You have to consider the viewer, I guess. Which in this case would be Alastair.”

Dean hums, giving Gregory a look that means he’s listening.

“Then,” Greogry continues, “speak with your fellow actor. See if he has ideas about what to do. What is your goal? What do you want the viewer to feel? And then it’s just a question of, like I said, drawing a line. Give Gabriel a margin of action, plan the little things that can’t be planned, in a way. Tell him what you’re willing to do, things you don’t wanna do but are willing to accept if need be, and things you absolutely don’t want.” He raises both eyebrows, and smiles. “Does that help?”

Dean thinks about it. It makes senses, it’s reasonable. “Yeah. It does.” He smiles back. “Thanks.”

Gregory winks.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

Dean leaves with an invitation to come whenever he feels like talking, chilling, or just wearing pants, which makes him laugh. It’s reassuring to know there’s someone in here beside Gabriel he can talk to. And Gregory makes him feel safe. Dean hasn’t felt safe in a long while.

But as he walks away from Gregory’s room and to Gabriel’s, the feeling of ease disappears slowly. He’s getting tense as he takes the few last steps toward the door this his room. Gabriel’s probably back. He’s gonna want to know where Dean’s been.

Fuck, Dean doesn’t have to tell him. He doesn’t owe the angel anything anymore. It’s gonna be fine. And even if Gabriel says something, Dean can simply ignore him. Yeah. He can do that. Or he can just… tell the truth. Be civil. Like they agreed to be all those months ago, after Gabriel freed his slaves.

Shit.

Dean opens the door and strolls in, showing a determination he’s not really feeling. The room is empty. He stands there awkwardly for a while, feeling more and more stupid as the seconds tick by.

Finally, he decides to make himself useful. He changes the sheets, tries to cook for a bit, since he hadn’t had an occasion to do so for a while. He thinks for a moment about what he could make, and figures whatever it is, Gabriel’s not going to eat it anyway, since it won’t be as good as what the kitchens here can make. He cooks himself some sausages, thinks about pie, then gives up on it. He eats slowly in front of the TV, chewing absent-mindedly as he watches Jeopardy and tries to be faster than the candidates in the show.

Overall, the afternoon goes by slowly, boringly. Dean is starting to feel like he’s going crazy. He needs to go out. But in order to do so he’d have to ask Gabriel. And Gabriel would have to go with him. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s in Vegas, for fuck’s sake! He should take advantage and go see the sight. Just get out of this hotel.  Put on some real people clothes, go be with regular humans at a regular casino, have a little fun with the real natives. Get the fuck outta here! He’s pretty sure the tension between him and Gabriel isn’t only due to their situation, but also to the feeling of confinement this whole building gives out.

It’s a good idea, and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to happen. When Gabriel finally comes back, he’s worked himself into a frantic state. He wants to get out. He needs it.

He gives Gabriel an impatient look, still sprawled on the sofa like he’s been all afternoon.

“Where were you?”

It sounds accusatory, which wasn’t his first intention, but he doesn’t apologize. Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him, taken aback.

“Why? You needed me for something?”

Dean huffs, straightening up. “I’m going crazy, staying cooped up here all day long.” He tries to make it sound like an apology. It doesn’t quite work. Not that Gabriel can blame him. Dean’s still angry for what the angel asked him to do.

Gabriel gives him a quick confused look, walking straight to the bar. “And?”

“And we could get out tonight,” Dean insists. “Take a night off, you know?”

He hates how hopeful he sounds.

Gabriel turns with a sigh, glass in hand. “I get it, Dean, believe me, I do…” He takes a sip, and leaves the end of his sentence hanging.

“But there’s a ‘but’,” Dean finishes for him.

“I’m tired. Just spent almost the whole day with Val and Crowley.”

Dean nods, and ignores the lump in his throat. He’s not going to cry because he’s disappointed. It’s fine.

“Tomorrow night would work, though,” Gabriel adds, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Yeah, fine.”

Looking at the TV again, Dean pretends he’s watching. He’s see Gabriel down his drink in one go, in the corner of his vision, but doesn’t move. The angel just stands where he is for a few seconds, before he lets out a breath.

“I’m going to the Red Room to have dinner. Wanna come with me?”

Dean slowly looks up to him. “And spend two hours on my knees, starving while you eat?”

“You’re right, sorry… I shouldn’t’ve—“

“Okay,” Dean says, standing up.

He’s been in here for too long. He needs to do something else. Gabriel blinks, surprised, but he’s smart enough that he doesn’t try to change Dean’s mind. They leave together, without saying a word to each other.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

 

Gabriel’s eating, now, chewing at he looks at the stage, uninterested. Dean’s stomach growls. Fuck, why is he here? Why did he say yes? He’s hungry and his knees hurt, just like he predicted. He’s probably going crazy.

“That smells delicious,” he breathes.

Gabriel gives him a look, and picks up a bit of shrimp off his plate, bringing it close to Dean’s mouth.

“You want some?”

“I’m not eating off your hand,” Dean answers through gritted teeth.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know,” Gabriel says after a pause, putting the piece of shrimp back on his plate. “Some people actually consider hand-feeding their partner a form of care.”

“We’re not partners,” Dean mutters under his breath.

His stomach growls again. He clears his throat, shuffling on his knees to relieve the pressure a bit.

“They’re good,” Gabriel insists.

“If I could, I’d punch you right in the nose.” The end of his sentence is drowned out by the sound of his stomach again. Fuck. He’s so hungry.

At least Dean has the pleasure of seeing Gabriel’s expression turn sad and uneasy. The angel feels bad about the whole situation. Which makes Dean happy. It’s cruel, but it feels so good Dean doesn’t even care. But unfortunately, happiness doesn’t fill Dean’s belly. He sighs, conflicted, but finally relents. He can’t wait until Gabriel’s done. He won’t be able to.

“Fine, gimme.”

Gabriel blinks down at him, surprised. “You’re sure?”

Dean tsks, trying not to look up. “Dude, I’m starving. Come on, don’t make me ask twice.”

Carefully, Gabriel cuts a piece of shrimp, and takes it between two fingers. He brings it close to Dean’s mouth again. Dean’s annoyed by how careful he’s acting, and how intensely he’s watching Dean. Like something amazing’s happening. Dean’s really close to tell him he changed his mind, but the smell of shrimp fills his nose and his stomach gives another growl. Fuck it.

He bites on the piece, and Gabriel removes his hand as soon as Dean has a good grip on it. He closes his eyes as he chews, barely repressing a moan.

“Oh, God,” he breathes, mouth full, “okay.” He swallows, the flavor flooding his palate. “Again.”

Gabriel complies, bringing another piece to Dean’s mouth. His thumb brushes Dean’s lips this time. He’s still staring, mouth slightly open, and he licks his lips when Dean swallows. Dean tries not to care because he’s hungry, but it’s rather confusing. He likes the attention. He likes how simple it turned out to be, when he thought he would feel mostly shame at having to be fed that way. And then there’s the part of Dean’s mind that still wants to rebel, to tell Gabriel to go fuck himself. The part that views this whole thing as a shameful thing, an act of submission that can strip away everything Dean is if he lets it.

Dean doesn’t know how to feel, so he elects not to feel anything about it for now. Not the most healthy way of coping, but ‘healthy’ was never really in the Winchester family’s vocabulary anyway.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows, questioning. “Again?”

Dean hesitates. This time he looks up, throwing caution to the wind. People around them could see, but like this, in the context, he thinks it’ll be okay. Normal interaction between a Master and his slave, right?

Something changes. Dean nods, and they actually stare at each other as Dean opens his mouth, and thinks about what Gregory told him. He’s not weak, and he’s not inferior to Gabriel. They’re just acting like he is, like Gabriel is his Master, to entertain the demons around them. That’s all it is. It lifts a weight from Dean’s mind.

It’s strange to think of himself in that light, but he finds it easier that he first assumed. To test himself, test Gregory’s method, this time he slightly bends over and closes his lips on Gabriel’s fingers. Gabriel gasps, slightly, as Dean’s tongue comes into play. It’s not really on purpose, Dean just wanted to pull the piece of shrimp back in his mouth, but it makes it all the more interesting when he realizes what he’s doing and he feels nothing about it. It’s just part of the act. It’s so, so easy it’s almost unbelievable.

“What are you doing?”

Dean chokes, and he can’t see what’s around him, only feel the presence of two people behind him, but he definitely recognizes Castiel’s voice. Gabriel removes his fingers so quickly he almost falls off his chair. Which would be comical if they weren’t surrounded by demons.

“C-Cas! Meg,” Gabriel whispers.

Meg?!

“What are you doing here??”

Cas sits on the chair next to Dean like it’s no big deal, and Dean sees Meg appear in his line of vision as she kneels down at Cas’s feet. She eyes Gabriel, a bit suspiciously, but winks at Dean when her gaze lands on him.

Raising his hand to catch one of the waiters’ attention, Castiel clears his throat.

“Well, we didn’t know what was happening, so we thought we’d come and help.”

Meg smiles.

“We’re fine,” Gabriel answers.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t know that since you didn’t call.”

“There was nothing to say!” Gabriel sighs, and he sounds out of breath, like he’s angry or panicking. “Cas, you can’t be here.”

“I told them you invited me.”

“You what? Heavens, Cas!”

Dean sees Val coming to them before Gabriel does. He knows they’re in deep shit. What if they don’t take well the fact that Gabriel supposedly invited someone without asking first?

“Gabriel,” Val says, pleasant. He takes a seat, and disappears from Dean’s line of vision. Meg gives Dean a look, like she wants to know who it is. Dean frowns at her. He hopes she’ll understand the guy’s serious business. “Is this your brother?”

Gabriel lets out a laugh. “Yes, this is Castiel. I hope you don’t mind that I told him to come. This place is wonderful!”

“It’s also private,” Val comments.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“Nevermind,” the demon goes on.

He raises two fingers in the direction of the waiters, and they move right away. They were ignoring Cas, then.

“I apologize if my presence inconveniences you,” Castiel says, “But this is truly a great establishment.”

Val smiles.

“You’re aware your slave will have to participate at least once if you wish to stay?”

“Of course. She’s very eager to be part of one of the fights, isn’t that right, Girl?”

Dean has to give it to Cas, he’s a very, very good actor. Even Dean gets some chill when he hears him talk.

“Yes, Master,” Meg answers.

“Let me see her.”

Castiel gives Meg an authoritative look, and she stands up, hands behind her back. The waiters come back, serving Val some food, ignoring Cas completely. Cas sits straighter, acting like he didn’t notice. Gabriel just watches them interact, his face a blank mask.

“Scrawny little thing. You’re sure she can hold her own?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers. “I can assure you, she’s a skilled fighter.”

“Fine,” Val says with a sigh.

Meg kneels down again, and Castiel pats her head. Seriously. This is creepy.

“I should go back to my room, I think Castiel and I need to catch up,” Gabriel smiles. “If you’ll excuse us…”

Nodding, Val starts digging into his plate, without looking up. Gabriel leads the way, and Castiel and Meg follow with Dean. Nobody talks for the whole walk back to the room.

Once inside, Gabriel explodes.

“What the FUCK were you thinking coming here?!!”

“I couldn’t stay at home while you—“

“You ruined everything, Cas!! Everything! I was so close to meeting Alastair, and now—“

“Well I couldn’t know that since you forgot to call like you promised you would!”

“I’m sorry, Cas, I’m sorry you lost your Grace and I can’t reach you without a telephone but it’s not my fault if I couldn’t—“

“Oh, right, now it’s me. I’m the inconvenience, now. Because I’m human. Thank you, Gabriel, thank you!“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean tries, stepping between the both of them.

Gabriel laughs, unhappily. “That’s exactly what I was saying,” he spits. “Because it can’t be your fault that you’re too impatient?”

“I’m impatient? You’re the one who jumped on the opportunity to meet Alastair when we could have devised a better plan!! You’re the one who got Dean into this instead of—“

“HEY!” They both turn to Dean, looking equally furious. “I’m right here, Cas. And I agreed to come on my own. Now will you both please calm down?!”

Gabriel huffs, pointing at Castiel. “He’s the one who—“

“No,” Dean interrupts. “Shut up. You too,” he exclaims, turning to Cas when he sees him open his mouth to speak. “We don’t know that anything’s ruined. They’re not just gonna kick us out because you invited you brother. If anything they think he’s harmless. They can sense Grace, right? So they’ll know he doesn’t have any. And even then, we can’t know, okay? Just chill.”

“Yeah,” Meg says, “I hate to say this but Dean’s being reasonable for once. He’s right. Let’s wait and see.”

“Thanks,” Dean deadpans.

She smirks at him. “You’re welcome, Darling.” Giving the angels a look, she sighs. “Can we, I don’t know… just say ‘hello’ now?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, nodding. He turns to her, and feels a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.”

He turns to Cas.

“Heya, Cas.”

Castiel squints. “Hello, Dean.”

“So now,” Dean goes on, as he looks at Meg again. “I can ask, why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to come here?”

“Fuck you, Winchester. You think you’re the only one with a hero complex? Now give me a hug. I don’t have time for your crap.”

Dean sighs. But he complies, anyway, taking her small frame into his arms. He missed her, he thinks, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. Somehow she always smells like she’s fresh out of the shower now that they’re not at Lucifer’s anymore.

In the corner of his eyes, Dean sees Gabriel shift on his feet, uncomfortable. Letting go of Meg, he turns to the two angels, and sighs.

“So, I guess Gabriel and I should put you up to speed, huh?”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

 

They order food, and eat while Gabriel and Dean explain everything. Meg marvels at the food instead of listening, stuffing her face like she hasn’t eaten in weeks, but Dean can’t really be mad at her. He gets it. The food is amazing here.

Castiel hums, thoughtful, when Gabriel’s done with his explanations. He’s been careful with his brother ever since he arrived, because he had to explain to Gabriel that they announced themselves at the check-in desk, pretending that they were invited and then demanding to be taken to Gabriel without leaving anyone a choice. Which pissed Gabriel right off, because saying they’ve been invited was one thing, forcing their way into the Red Room was another.

“I have to agree, I noticed a lot of slaves here,” he says. He’s trying to pacify Gabriel by agreeing with him before giving a piece of his mind. Clever. “But they don’t look untrained to me.”

“It’s because they only use the untrained ones for their special parties,” Gabriel answers.

Meg looks up, suddenly wary. She is listening, then.

“Special parties?”

Dean winces behind her back, and Gabriel hesitates. Yes, they left out the parts where Dean had to use his ass.

“They’re… private parties,” Gabriel starts, carefully. “The demons gather in small committees, in one of their rooms and they… use a slave.”

“They fuck the slave? All of them?”

“No, they… hire someone, to take care of the slave, or sometimes one of them does it. The others watch.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been invited to one of those?”

Clearing his throat, Gabriel gives him a shy look, avoiding Meg’s gaze. “Yes, a few of them. One of the requirements for me to participate, was to host one of those parties here.”

Finally, like Dean was expecting her to, Meg turns to him, putting down her piece of bread of the table so hard that Cas jumps.

“You had to participate.”

Not a question. Dean shrugs.

“I’m still here, ain’t I? Still talking, still good. It was fine. I’m fine.”

Dean’s never seen her look more scandalized. She tries to catch Gabriel’s eyes but he looks away.

“I can’t believe you! Both of you!”

“It’s all part of the game, Meg,” Dean goes on, a bit angry now. “And please, don’t be a hypocrite. You just agreed to participate in one of those fight-and-fuck show.”

She huffs. “Fine. You’re right.”

A heavy silence falls on the four of them. Castiel and Gabriel keep eating, but Dean’s not hungry anymore. He’s scared for Meg. Truly scared. He’s happy to see her but he wishes she would just go.

But her and Cas can’t go, now, can they? She raises an eyebrow at him, picking up her piece of bread again.

“Did you participate in those fight-and-fuck shows?”

Avoiding her gaze, he nods.

“How was it?”

“Humiliating.”

She hums. Then, after a moment of silence, she burst out laughing. The three of them give her a surprised look.

Dean’s the first to open his mouth. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, I just…” she giggles, trying to calm down. “I’m just imagining Cas’ face when he sees me naked for the first time and he’ll have to pretend to be a big bad angel master and not show how awkward he feels.”

Castiel turns a lovely shade of cherry pink.

“I can control myself,” he mumbles.

“Right,” Meg coos, “like you controlled yourself earlier when I had to put on the tunic.”

Now it’s Gabriel’s turn to chuckle while looking at his brother.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing…”

“He popped a boner,” Meg says, nonchalant.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Cas looks away.

“It took me by surprise!”

“What,” Dean comes in, “the boner?”

They all start laughing at Cas who’s trying to justify himself.

“No, I just… she took her clothes off without warning, what was I supposed to do?”

This starts the greatest night Dean’s ever had in a while. They keep laughing at Castiel for the entirety of it. Dean doesn’t think he laughed so hard to the point of having his stomach hurt ever. They stay up late, and when Meg and Cas retire to their room, Dean feels more contented than he’s been in a long while. ~~~~

He’s scared for Meg, but with her here, maybe things will go easier. He feels lighter, already. That night, he falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

 

“We’re meeting Alastair tonight,” Gabriel blurts out the next morning, barging into the bedroom and waking Dean up in the process.

Dean doesn’t even sit up. He blinks until he can see a vague shape resembling the angel, frowning in his general direction.

“Wha’?”

Coming to sit on the bed, Gabriel pulls at the comforter with every intention to force Dean to wake up, but he stops when he sees the first hint of flesh. Yeah, Dean’s not going to sleep in a tunic he wore or is gonna wear all day.

“Alastair,” Gabriel repeats, folding his hands into his lap. “Val set up a meeting. Tonight.”

Dean grunts. He reluctantly sits up, sheets pooling into his lap. He pretends he doesn’t see the way Gabriel’s eyes dart to his hips, then his abs, and chooses to glare at the angel instead.

“You couldn’t have waited until I have some coffee in me before telling me that?”

“Val just sent a note. I thought you’d want to know right away.”

He hands Dean a piece of paper that’s been folded in two, with the logo of the hotel printed in the top left corner.

‘ _Gabriel,_

_I managed to get you an access to the Purple Room, where Alastair will wait for you after tonight’s show._

_I still feel somewhat distrustful toward you, after the stunt you pulled with your brother, but since Alastair answered favorably to your request, I didn’t see the point in making him wait because of you._

_Bring only your slave. Alastair is expecting a private showing. Don’t disappoint me._

_Regards,  
Val_.’

Dean’s all woken up now. He clears his throat.

“If it’s just you and me, and Alastair…” he starts.

Gabriel sighs. “I know. I won’t let him touch you.”

“That means you’ll have to do the dirty work.”

And yeah, no. Dean tries to pretend he’s not at all terrified just thinking about it.

Humming, Gabriel looks down. “I’m afraid I’ll have to, yes.” He looks up again, so Dean clears his throat.

“Yeah. Okay… I need to… get ready for it, I guess.”

Gabriel nods, a bit apologetic.

“I’ll leave you alone, then. Cas asked me to show him around, anyway.”

“Okay,” Dean breathes.

He’s half asleep, he can taste his bad breath, and the mere fact of having Gabriel so close makes his skin crawls. He’s not ready to have a heart to heart just yet. But somehow, with this big meeting looming over them, he feels like the angel is the only one who can understand him. It’s not true. But it feels like it.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Dean offers when Gabriel doesn’t move.

Gabriel sighs. “What about you? Are you going to be fine?”

He looks genuinely worried, and so Dean tries not to snap at him. “I don’t know.” He can’t offer more than this. He can’t comfort Gabriel.

There’s a silence. They stare at each other. Gabriel looks like he wants to ask something, but doesn’t dare to. Dean beats him to it. He’s been thinking about the sex thing ever since he left Gregory’s place. Obviously, he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s always somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Maybe if we decide what you’re gonna do to me…” he sits up straighter, and lets his hands fall into his lap. “Like, together. It could help.”

“Right. Okay.”

Dean breathes in, slowly, then out. This is why they’re here. This is undercover work. He can do it.

 

 


	7. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I have been sort of busy, also sort of depressed which usually leads to me not writing because I can't find the strength, but! It's over now! Also, chapter 8 should be posted in about a month, maybe less! It is written already, but my beta is going through some things, and is also very busy, so I don't want to push.
> 
> I want to thank her, too, because she's been so great again with this whole chapter, and with helping when I was feeling low. 'Thank you' are not strong enough words to express how grateful I am to her. Love you, Lis! 
> 
> See the end of the chapter for trigger warnings. Be safe peeps!

# CHAPTER 7 : Changes

Dean takes time getting out of bed.  He’d really like to just stay there all day, escaping what this day will bring.  He wants nothing more but to remain safe and untouched in the comfortable mattress and soft sheets. Sleep in, enjoy the nice weather, take a stroll around Vegas. But it’s not what he’s here for.

With a resigned sigh he heaves himself out of the bed and into the shower.  He takes time to enjoy it.  Under the hot water and delicious water pressure he can feel his muscles relax. He lets his mind drift, thinking about nothing in particular.

Dressed in sweatpants and a tee-shirt he finally makes it out to the balcony.  He knew Gabriel would be waiting.  Breakfast is on the table.  It’s a nice array of all his favorites OJ and milk, a basket of fruits plates filled with sausages, eggs, bacon and waffles. Dean piles a plate for himself and prepares to dig in.

 “We need to come up with a script,” he announces.

Right what Gregory told him, because last night he realized it worked. He hopes Gabriel won’t make a fuss about it.

“Okay,” Gabriel says. Dean relaxes a little. “What do you propose?”

“I, uh…” Dean tries to remember his conversation with Gregory before he answers. “We should figure out what Alastair wants to see, and… plan for it. See what I’m willing to do, what I don’t want, you know. What leeway I could give you in case Alastair starts getting ideas or tries to change the plan. Stuff like that. So we can have a guideline.”

Gabriel actually looks surprised that Dean thought so much about it. If only he knew…

“Alright, well…” he leans back in his seat and crosses one leg above the other. “I think…” He’s cautious again. Which doesn’t bode well for Dean, but he’s willing to listen, at least. “I think Alastair wants to see that I own you. Truly, and without question.”

“Does that mean you’ll have to restrain me?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. Maybe I could… dress you up. Show you’re mine.”

Dean raises an eyebrow and slides a finger under his collar. “I think this is supposed to show it.”

Gabriel twists his mouth, displeased. “It’s not what I mean… I need to show that you’re precious to me. That you’re not any slave. That I worked hard to get you to submit and that now that you did, I know what you’re worth.”

“What does it have to do with ownership?”

“It’s like when an old lady buy clothes for their dogs… it’s… I’m sorry, but it shows that you’re a precious pet.”

Dean groans, and looks away. “Okay,” he huffs. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to get your nipples pierced?”

Dean just glares as an answer. He sees Gabriel was half serious.

“Right,” the angel says. “I was thinking about body jewelry. Maybe jewels you can attach with nipple clamps or a cock ring. Or both.”

It makes Dean’s heart flip to hear about those things. But he needs to remember they have one shot at this. Especially now that Cas and Meg showed up. Thinking about it, he sees he’s not really comfortable about the idea, but it’s something he could bear, at least.

“Okay. But you forget I can’t… uh.” He feels a blush coming. He knows Gabriel knows he’s talking about his erection problem. “Ain’t I supposed to be all turned on by you, now?”

Gabriel nods. “You’re right. A cock cage, then. It’s designed specifically so you can’t—“

“I know what a cock cage is,” Dean mumbles, annoyed. Christ, how can Gabriel talk about all those things without even looking slightly embarrassed? “I… okay. What if Alastair wants to see me… in action?”

“We keep a piece of chocolate here, and I make it appear into your mouth if need be. I wouldn’t risk it from the beginning, though, I don’t know how powerful Alastair is, but there’s a slight chance he can detect when I use my Grace.”

“Doesn’t seem like a good idea, then…”

“Well…” Gabriel starts. And he seems to think. “Maybe… if I don’t need to reach up to our room… yeah, he won’t feel it if I directly use my Grace on you. Use my Grace as, uh, Viagra, you know? I think it could work. We don’t need the chocolates, then. I know you don’t like those too much.”

“Okay…” Dean doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s glad Gabriel has solutions for all the problems he can come up with. It means he’ll be ready and he’ll have something up his sleeve if things turn south.

Gabriel gives him a sympathetic look, like he knows just what Dean is thinking. “Anything else you’re afraid of?”

“Hm…” Dean doesn’t know how to say this, but it has to come out. So he forces it out. “What if… Alastair wants to see you fuck me? What if he doesn’t give us enough time to prep me? You know what the rumor says about him… he likes pain.” He adverts his eyes. Too many memories are coming back and he can’t cry. Not now. “I don’t want to… I don’t want you to…”

“It’s alright, Dean. Hey. Look at me.” Dean slowly turns his gaze toward Gabriel again. He’s tired, suddenly. “We’ll prep you beforehand. I mean, you. Not we. You’ll prep yourself,” he adds when he sees the way Dean leans away from him. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, I promise. And it can add something to our little show. If we had a plug, a nice one, with a diamond or a sapphire on the handle, then there’s a reason why you’re already prepped. What do you think?”

_Breathe through your nose, once, twice, a third time. Everything’s fine_. Dean nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

“And maybe…” Gabriel says again. Dean eyes him warily, but keeps his mouth shut. “We could trade the Hotel tunic for a silk one. I’m thinking light green. It would look great with gold jewelry. The best adornment for an Archangel’s slave.”

Dean sighs, rubbing his eyes. “So you’re going for the overprice whore look?”

“Not a whore, Dean,” Gabriel smiles, “a valued, highly trained slave look. No one would waste that kind of money on a whore. If you take it, that means you’re well trained. That you’re… that I broke you. That you’re mine.”

Okay. Dean’s passed the point where he gives a shit what the other demons think of him. He just decides to go with the flow, because why not? “Wouldn’t it go against the Hotel’s rules?”

“No. You’re wearing a tunic. Just not the one they provide. It’s part of a little power game I want to play with Alastair. And I intend to win.”

Dean smirks. “Like a small fuck you, to test the water?”

“Exactly,” Gabriel answers, a smile on his face.

Dean finally bites into his piece of sausage. He has trouble swallowing, worried about everything, really. But he needs to eat, he needs his strength.

“Alright,” he lets out, “now we need to decide what you’ll do to me.”

“Let’s start with what you absolutely refuse to do,” Gabriel offers.

He pops a grape into his mouth and waits. Dean thinks about it. He genuinely doesn’t know.

“I don’t think I could… suck you off. Or, just actively do anything to you.” ‘ _I’m sorry’_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it.

“Fine with me.” Is Gabriel’s answer. “And I don’t want to do anything that would permanently scar, or injure you. Even if I can heal it. I won’t.”

“Thanks.” It comes out as sarcastic. “But what do we actually _do_?”

Gabriel hums, thinking. He bites into another piece of grape, and Dean wonders how he can eat, of all thing, while thinking about this.

“Jerking you off is out of the question with the cage on, so…” All of Dean’s blood rush to his face, but he tries to keep his composure. “I guess all I’ll have to work with will be my hands,” Gabriel goes on. “So, you can guess what I can do with those.” He wriggles his fingers in the air, an eyebrow raises, playful.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. But it can’t be all you’ll do, or he’ll get bored.”

“You’re right.” Gabriel thinks again for a few seconds. But he can’t keep his mouth shut for long, and he keeps rambling as the ideas come, “we already said restraints would be out of the way, so, since we want to show Alastair I own you… maybe humiliation would work.” He blinks at Dean then, like he remembered Dean was here, in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, go on. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Gabriel hesitates, but only for a second. “Spanking? Maybe having you say things to me… I know it won’t be easy for you but… it could entertain him.”

_Jesus!_ “I…” Dean doesn’t know what to answer. It’s not a bad idea. It’s not. But can he just… fuck. “Okay, fine. Might as well go crazy on the bastard, right? We only have one shot.”

Gabriel nods, and falls silent. Dean tries to imagine how it could go, all the way it could go wrong. An overwhelming feeling of wrongness settles in his mind, but he does his best to ignore it.

“What if Alastair wants to remove the cage?”

“I’ll lock it with my Grace,” Gabriel answers right away.

“Okay.”

It’s good. It’s fine, what they’re doing here, it’s helping people, not just the people at Gabriel’s, but probably people all over the continent. Dean can do it. He can, and he won’t let the paralyzing fear of having to perform with Gabriel stop him. They can’t fuck this up. _He_ can’t fuck this up. It’s been a week. If they do this right, then maybe the two remaining ones won’t be as bad.

“Okay,” he repeats.

He looks at Gabriel, sure that fear is probably showing on his face, but he can’t bring himself to care. Gabriel holds his gaze, and smiles, reassuringly.

Dean can do it. He’s not alone.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Fuck. Why did he say yes to that crap?

Dean’s alone in the bathroom, naked, a golden plug in hand, a bottle of lube sitting on the floor, while his other hand is reaching behind him as he tries to open himself. His arm hurts, his back hurts, and fuck, this was a bad idea. He can barely fit in the first finger, because it feels like his arm is too short. He needs to find a better position than standing on his feet in front of a wall, forehead pushing against the tile and legs spread. He should fall on his knees, but the floor is cold and hard and his kneecaps are already protesting at the idea, used and bruised from having to stay in the same position for hours every day since he got here.

Shit. He could go settle on the bed, he’d be comfortable. But that would mean Gabriel could burst in at any moment, with a compassionate pout and an offer to help and Dean knows, he _knows_ he couldn’t resist it. As much as his body refuses the idea of sex, and the idea of sex with Gabriel above all things, his brain craves the contact. The tenderness. The heat of Gabriel’s body.

Fuck Dean’s life, really.

He squats down, feeling utterly ridiculous, because frankly he must look like he’s taking a shit, and tries again. But it’s not working. He can push one finger inside fine, but the second makes it difficult, and he can’t get past the first knuckle, much less move them to try and relax his muscles.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He removes his hand and falls on his butt. “Fuck.”

Just breathing, sitting on the floor, he considers his options. Inhale, exhale. He’s not going to make a big deal out of this. This is acting. The plug and the nipple chains and the cock cage and the green tunic are his wardrobe. It’s fine. He just needs a little help putting his costume on. No big deal.

Right. He takes a decisive breath, and stands up, wrapping a towel around his waist. When he gets out of the bathroom, bottle of lube and plug in hands, he can’t hear anything. He hopes Gabriel is still there.

“Gabriel?”

“Over here,” Gabriel answers from the balcony.

_Okay, Winchester. Deep breaths_. “Can you come here for a second?”

Gabriel’s head pop out from behind the balcony door. He raises an eyebrow, curious. “Are you done, already?”

“Uh,” Dean shifts on his feet, “No. I just… I need help. I can’t… can’t reach…”

“Oh.”

Dean can’t look at Gabriel. There’s a beat of silence, then, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers too quickly. If they keep this up he’ll change his mind. “You’re gonna have your fingers up my ass a couple hours from now anyway. And you… I never did it myself. This thing is huge,” he adds, raising the plug in the air.

Gabriel clears his throat. “Alright. Where do you…”

“Bedroom.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not…” Dean stammers, blushing when he realizes Gabriel is hesitant. “It’s more comfortable. For me I mean. It’s not that I…”

“I get it.”

Gabriel steps inside, and waits. “Lead the way,” he says, quietly.

So Dean does. Once he reaches the bed, he stills, wondering what to do. Gabriel seems to sense it, and walks around it, takes one of the pillow from the head of the bed, and throws it in the middle of it.

“You should lie down on your belly,” he suggests.

Dean nods tersely, and slowly does as instructed, butt slightly raised thanks to the pillow under his hips. He’s still wearing the towel. The plug and bottle of lube are still in his hands. He’s clutching to thrm as if letting them go will somehow signify the start of something horrible. Which it will. In some way.  

“May I?”

Dean looks up at Gabriel’s extended hand, as the angel silently asks for the things in Dean’s hand. Dean nods, dropping the lube and plug into Gabriel’s hand, and he hides his face in a pillow.

He hears Gabriel clears his throat behind him. “How do you want me to proceed?”

“Just… do. Something. Do your thing.”

“Okay.”

A beat. Then hands start pulling at the towel around Dean’s hips, and Dean braces himself. He holds his breath when the towel falls down, leaving his butt naked to Gabriel’s eyes. He tries not to think about it too much, and wills his body to relax instead. All it takes for him to tense again is hearing the cap of the bottle of lube opening. After that, he has to let out little puffs of air to release the tension.

“Dean, are you sure?”

“Please, stop talking.”

“It makes me very uncomfortable doing this to you knowing you’re not… enjoying it.”

Dean deflates, hearing the words. He can’t go through with this, with the whole thing, if Gabriel doesn’t grow some balls. “I’ll be fine,” he says. “Please… please just do it, okay? We need it for tonight, and if you keep asking me if I’m sure I’ll…” he trails off as he turns his head to look at Gabriel behind him.

The angel nods. Dean is at least comforted by the understanding in Gabriel’s eyes.

“At least,” Gabriel says as he tries to look anywhere but at Dean’s ass, “can you let me… can I… touch you, as if we were actually…”

Dean’s groan interrupts him. But Dean’s way past arguing. About anything, really. “Yeah, sure. Just… be quick.”

Gabriel nods again, and so Dean hides his face, and waits. The bed dips. Dean’s muscles tighten again. He feels Gabriel crawling up the bed, until his breath tickles the back of Dean’s neck. Then there’s a press of lips, soft, tender. It’s more than Dean can bear, but he grinds his teeth and bears through it anyway.

It’s weird. Just plain weird, to have Gabriel acting so tenderly. It brings Dean back to a year before, back to when he thought they could have had an actual relationship. It makes him yearn for more of Gabriel’s touch, and repulses him at the same time.

But, God! Did he miss it. He’s slightly disgusted at himself for thinking this, but Gabriel knows what he’s doing. He’s got years and years of practice, and it shows. So Dean tries to focus on the pleasant feeling, on the goosebumps rising on his skin in the places Gabriel’s lips touch his skin, lower and lower and lower until he reaches the meat of Dean’s ass.

“Can I…?”

Shit. How can Dean say no? He’s not excited, not really, but from what he experienced with Gregory, he knows he could enjoy it. He knows what Gabriel’s asking. He wants to… wants to eat him out, Jesus Christ, and Dean is curious. He’s curious to see what he’ll feel, because it’s always been one of his favorite things. He loved it when Gabriel licked his ass, even if it’s something he’ll never admit. Fucking Archangel, though. Can never respect the boundaries Dean is setting, always has to take it one step over the line.

“You know it’ll make it easier,” Gabriel breathes.

He’s affected, that much is clear from his tone of voice. Fuck it, Dean thinks. He should look at the good side of things. Get something nice out of this whole fucked up deal.

“Okay.”

Gabriel doesn’t need to be told twice. He spreads Dean’s cheeks and digs in, like a man dying of thirst. Dean can’t help letting out a small yelp, and he exhales, focusing on the feeling of Gabriel’s tongue lapping at his hole.

Okay. Fine. It feels good. He finds himself pushing back on it, just to feel the tiny spark of pleasure that appears from time to time. Fuck. It does stir something inside Dean’s lower belly. He just wishes there was more of it. This time, when, Gabriel opens the bottle of lube again, Dean doesn’t tense. He’s relaxed enough that he even feels a little bit of disappointment when Gabriel pulls away.

It doesn’t stop him from flinching when a cold lubed finger presses against his ass, though.

“Slow, slow, slow,” he can’t help but hiss.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel answers. He drops a kiss on Dean’s ass, kneading the flesh with his free hand. “Heavens, I forgot how you tasted,” he adds as he licks a stripe from Dean’s balls to his hole again.

Dean forgot how much Gabriel liked to comment during sex. But he ignores it, as best as he can, and just _feels_ instead. Gabriel keeps eating him out, his tongue unbearably hot, as his finger finds his way in.

“Fuck,” Dean finds himself whispering, over and over again as Gabriel works. “Fuck. _Fuck_!”

He’s not going to come from this, but it’s just good. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling. It’s just bizarre, and hot, wet and nice, and generally _good_. There’s no other word for it.

Gabriel pulls away again. This time Dean huffs in protest. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. “Yeah. Good.” He turns his head, and somehow manages not to blush when he sees the grin on Gabriel’s face. “Keep… keep going.” Gabriel response is to crook his finger inside Dean, finding his sweet spot on the first try. It sends a wave of warmth spiraling inside Dean’s belly, and he jumps a bit. “Oh. Oh, okay.”

“Good?”

“Y...Yeah.”

A second finger pushes at his hole, and he looks away again. It takes a while for Gabriel to stretch him enough to accommodate three fingers, but Dean’s not complaining. He’s actually enjoying this, for the first time in a long time. He’s still conflicted about liking the whole thing, considering the situation, but he tries not to dwell too much on the thought. This constant battle against his own mind is starting to feel old.

The part of his brain telling him he shouldn’t be doing this is strangely starting to sound like Meg. He saw the disapproving look she threw at Gabriel. Dean knows what she thinks. She’s not wrong. But he shouldn’t be thinking about that now, not when Gabriel slowly removes his finger and, a second later, the head of the plug is pushing against Dean’s skin.

He can’t help it, he tenses again.

“It won’t hurt, I promise,” Gabriel says.

“I know. I just… need a second. Keep going.”

The plug is very well lubed, and when Dean finally allows the intrusion, it slides in almost effortlessly. He breathes in and out, trying to accommodate to the feeling.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yep,” Dean answers, face buried in his pillow.

Jesus. He needs more. But his body just won’t react. Gabriel’s hand is still on the plug, like he could pull it out at any moment if it becomes uncomfortable, and so Dean pushes back on it, tentatively. Good. Yes. Still good. He does it again. And then another time, just to be sure.

Gabriel chuckles, and heat comes up to Dean’s cheeks.

“So you’re warming up to the idea of wearing it, I assume.”

“Fuck you,” Dean answers weakly. “It’s just... don’t make me regret it.”

Gabriel is silent for a few seconds. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“S’fine.”

“Hm,” is all Gabriel lets out, before he pulls slightly on the plug, and pushes it in again.

Christ. What are they doing? It shouldn’t be happening, Dean knows. But he lets it. He lets it happen, because it’s nice, and he’s actually enjoying this, so why does he feel like he should protest?

Who cares, anyway? He thinks idly, spreading his legs a little more. Gabriel lets out a small, happy noise, and, without Dean having to ask for it, thank God, he starts moving the plug around, fucking Dean with it slowly. He moves after a minute or two, and his other hand start rubbing Dean’s shoulder. He drops a kiss here and there from time to time.

It’s warm in the room, and the massage, the kisses and the attention make Dean relax so much he’s half asleep in a matter of minutes, just dozing off, floating and enjoying the sensations. He doesn’t feel the need to rub against the pillow still under his hips. It’s just quiet, and weird, but good.

Far too soon for Dean’s taste, Gabriel stops. He half groans in protest, but Gabriel doesn’t hear him, and instead slaps his butt gently.

“Turn around.”

Dean pops an eye open, half turns around so he can look Gabriel in the eyes. “What for?”

The angel snaps his fingers and a cock cage appears in his hand. He raises an eyebrow. Instinctively, Dean covers his crotch with the towel.

Gabriel loses his smile. He seems to remember the situation, suddenly. “Unless you wanted to put it on yourself. I’m s—“

“Do it,” Dean interrupts. “I wouldn’t know what to do with that crap. What if I pinch my balls between the bars? Do it.”

Gabriel huffs a laugh. “You can’t… pinch your balls with it.”

“Whatever. You’re the expert.”

Shaking his head with a small smile, Gabriel nudges gently at Dean’s side. With a sigh, Dean turns around, careful to keep the towel on his crotch.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Gabriel starts, “but can I sit on you?” Dean bursts out laughing, and nods, forgetting for a second what’s about to happen. “I’m aware it’s… difficult for you,” Gabriel goes on. “So, if you want to close your eyes…”

“Thanks,” Dean says, closing his eyes.

He hopes Gabriel knows he’s not thanking him for the advice, but for acknowledging Dean’s not at all comfortable with this whole thing. It’s small, but it’s something, at least.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Gabriel whispers. He sits carefully on Dean’s thighs, distributing his weight so he won’t hurt Dean. “After everything… you’re still here, and you’re helping.”

Clearing his throat, Dean tries to keep still. Gabriel lifts the towel from his crotch. There’s a cold brush of air as he does so, tingling Dean’s skin. He doesn’t move.

“No reason to be nervous, Dean. I saw you naked more times than I can count.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Different?”

“Yeah. That.”

The silence is unbearable. If Dean focuses enough, he can hear the traffic outside. He wishes he could hear birds, but God knows why. He doesn’t even like nature that much. He’s always more comfortable in a city, lost in the masses, where he can’t be singled out.

Gabriel shifts his weight again, and Dean assumes he’s going to grab his dick any second now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a gentle hold of Dean’s hips, and runs his thumb on the skin there.  “How can I make it… less different?”

Dean pops one eye open, surprised. He considers the question, and his own answer, like any of this will make a difference. Nothing can. Things went to shit between them, nothing can bring it back to what it was. He closes his eye again. “I don’t think you can,” he finally says. “But thanks for asking.”

He feels more than he hears Gabriel’s sigh. “Alright… so…”

And here comes the hand on his dick. It sends a burst of shame through his body, twisting his insides, and making his face hot. Not because of the contact, but because of how soft he is, how despite what Gabriel did to him his shaft stays flaccid and small in Gabriel’s hand.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Gabriel comments.

There’s a snap, something cold on Dean’s flesh, and Gabriel’s hands are gone, replaced by the soft brush of the towel covering his crotch. “There,” Gabriel says, patting Dean’s thigh.

Dean’s eyes blink open once again, and he’s suddenly aware of how close they are. He feels cold now. Ashamed. There’s no reason for him to be feeling that way, but he is. If he was normal, if he was still himself, he could straighten up, holding himself on his elbows, and pull Gabriel down into a kiss. He entertains the idea, briefly, but his body won’t move. His heart is beating in his throat. All he can do is stare at Gabriel, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” the angel finally lets out, deflating as the words come out.

Dean tilts his head on the side, uncomfortable. Gabriel’s still sitting on him. “What for?”

“Lucifer.”

Dean’s heart stops. Flutters for a second. Beats again.

“I know I said it before, and I know it doesn’t mean much to you,” Gabriel continues, averting his eyes, “but I am. I truly am. And I’m… mad. At him. At myself.” His eyes find Dean’s again. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Dean nods, terse, and shifts under Gabriel. The angels takes the cue, and slides on the side. Sitting up, Dean stretches. He scoots over, using his legs to drag himself to the foot of the bed, and winces when one of his knee pops, sending a spark of pain up his leg.

Gabriel blinks, and then frowns. “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

Dean could do nothing but raise an eyebrow, questioning.

“I forgot about…” Gabriel starts, gesturing toward Dean’s legs. “I mean, you’ve been kneeling for hours on end, and getting… with the parties, and the fights… and I didn’t think you could be sore or…”

He huffs, shaking his head in clear disappointment.

“I’m fine,” Dean says. Because it’s true. No need to make that big of a deal out of it.

“No, you’re not,” Gabriel exclaims, frustrated. Sighing, he looks away briefly before setting a grave pair of eyes on Dean. “I want to help. Please. Just a touch of Grace and you’d be golden.”

Dean hesitates. He wants to say no, out of spite. Out of pride, too. But he reconsiders, seeing as he apparently decided, God knows when, that he was going to take all the good things he can as what they are: things that can make him feel good, yeah, but also things that can make this whole shitty thing bearable for another two weeks. He’s going to fuck up his knees if he keeps being stubborn, he knows that. So, slowly, he nods. “Alright. Just the knees. Rest is fine.”

Gabriel’s face light up in relief. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Gabriel gets closer than he needs to be, in Dean’s opinion, but Dean doesn’t move. When the angel touches his knees, he doesn’t even flinch. He’s too relaxed for that. And it’s a pleasant surprise not to have a reaction of disgust. A tingle of Grace is all he feels. When he flexes his right leg, to check out if it worked, it all feels perfectly normal. He does it again with his left. Good as new.

“Thanks,” he says, looking up at Gabriel.

The angel smiles, genuine. “Anytime, Dean.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he blurts out a couple of hours later, when Gabriel brings one of the things close to his nipple.

‘One of the things’ being a nipple clamp, golden, with green sapphires embedded on it, linking it to an equally menacing clamp, one for each nipple, by a couple of golden chains.

He takes a breath. He’s standing in his boxer shorts, in front of the bed, and they’re about to go in about half an hour to see Alastair. It’s late, and Dean managed to convince Gabriel to wait until the last possible minute, but really, he’s so not ready for this.

“Okay, go ahead.”

“It’ll hurt more just because you’re getting all worked up over it,” Gabriel says, matter-of-factly. “I promise it’s not that bad.”

“How would you know?”

“Because everything I do to people I had done on me first.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow at him, suddenly interested. Gabriel takes advantage of his distraction to pinch his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and clips the thing to Dean. Dean lets out a really unmanly yelp and jumps away. The chains hang from his chest, the weight of it pulling on Dean’s flesh.

“Don’t take it off,” Gabriel urges.

It fucking stings, pain reverberating through Dean’s chest. He wants to tear the thing off, but he’s scared his nipple will go with it. But soon, the pain fades, leaving only a dull ache, just like Gabriel said it would. Dean tries to breathe through his nose as he picks up the chains to relieve his nipple.

“Fuck,” he groans, “put the other on before I change my mind.”

Gabriel does, and the second one is even worse, but Dean bears through it. He doesn’t move this time, only closing his eyes until the pain recedes. Gabriel eyes him, his gaze questioning, hands in front of him as if Dean was going to fall down. Or maybe he just wants to save the chains. Those green sapphires look like they cost more than his house.

“You’re good?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine. Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Good.”

Dean breathes through the pain. Truth is, he’s trying to save some time. Now there’s no excuse not to go. He can do this. He can. Come on, Winchester.

“Okay,” he says, determined as he stares into Gabriel’s eyes. “Let’s do this.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

 

Dean fidgets all the way down, until he’s forced to stop by Gabriel who whispers, right before the elevator’s doors open, “It’s going to be fine, Dean. We went through everything that could go wrong. Now stand up straight.”

When they reach the Casino, all eyes turn on them. Dean’s very much aware of what he must look like. The green of his tunic feels like it’s way brighter than it is. He couldn’t have stood out more, really. Val sees them, and his only reaction is a raised eyebrow and a disapproving frown. But he doesn’t say one word to Gabriel, besides the usual greetings. He takes them straight to a purple curtain on the far end of the casino, behind some big slot machines, pulling it open.

“Alastair is waiting for you in booth thirty-three.”  

Gabriel nods tersely, and moves forward with caution. Dean can only follow, eyes to the floor. Val doesn’t follow them.

Dean’s whole body is locked tight, tension growing as they pass a long corridor, crossing through another purple curtain, and walking through a long line of private booths, each bearing a number. Some doors are open, the people inside using their slaves without care for visitors or peeping eyes. Dean feels sick. His heart hammers against his ribcage, his whole body thrumming with fear. The fact that he can feel the plug shifting inside him with each step, the… ‘nipple jewelry’, as Gabe called them, are squeezing his nipples so hard he can barely feel them anymore but at the same time feels every little shift of fabric against them, doesn’t help him feel as relaxed as he wishes he was.

Finally, they reach booth thirty-three. There’s no hotel employee around. Gabriel gives Dean a quizzical look, so Dean shrugs in answer. He can’t think anymore. Sighing, Gabriel knocks on the door.

It’s opened by a slave girl, blond, with long, curly hair. Alastair is here, inside the booth, sitting back on the purple cushioned seat running around it. There’s no table, almost no space in the center of the booth. The seat is lined with black cushions, the wall bearing purple net curtains as decoration. It’s clear that the booth only has one function. Dean’s fear spikes up, and he keeps close to Gabriel.

“Please, sit,” Alastair smiles, inviting.

His smile falters, only for a second, when he takes in Dean’s appearance. But he seems willing to ignore it. For now.

The girl closes the door behind them, as Gabriel goes to sit down. Dean is about to kneel at his feet, wondering if he’ll have enough room to do so, but Gabriel tsks, patting the space next to him. So Dean sits, hands on his thighs, heart beating in his throat. The girl approaches Alastair, straddling his hips while he runs a hand on her ass.

He’s not looking at her, though. He’s staring straight at Gabriel, grinning. The two men hold gazes for a few seconds, before Alastair chuckles.

“Archangel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Gabriel nods. “And I about you. I’m glad we can finally meet.”

Alastair nods, ignoring the slave girl grinding on him. He lifts his chin, eyeing Dean with an eyebrow raised.

“This is the boy I heard so much about?”

Gabriel hums.

“Valaach likes him,” Alastair comments. And it takes Dean a second to realize he’s talking about Val. “I can’t wait to see more of him.”

Turning to Dean, Gabriel pats his thigh, kneading the flesh there forcefully. “You won’t be disappointed. I trained him well.”

“Let’s see then…”

Gabriel gives Dean a quick look, quick enough to see Dean blink once at him. Alastair let’s out a curious little ‘ah!’, which makes Gabriel turn to him, tilting his head on the side.

“There’s another thing Valaach mentioned,” Alastair says, answering Gabriel’s silent question, “you always look at your boy like you’re asking for his consent…”

Gabriel’s eyes widen. But he quickly remembers himself and laughs. “I do that, don’t I? I just like looking at him,” he says, eyeing Dean again. “See the apprehension in his eyes. It’s a nice sight, watching it turn into desire…”

His hand runs up Dean’s arm, and settles on his collar bone.

“I agree,” Alastair says, almost thoughtful. “I want to see him in action now, before I decide if we’re going to talk business or not.”

Gabriel smiles. “I guess I can give you a glimpse of what he can do. Then you can join one of the private parties, and make a decision afterward. We have time, after all.”

Grinning, Alastair pushes the slave girl away. She sits next to him, waiting. “I like the way you think,” Alastair tells Gabriel.

“Dean,” Gabriel says as way of an answer. There’s no mistaking this as anything but an order, “show our host the little surprise we prepared for him.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat, but he quickly stands up, taking off his tunic with trembling fingers. He doesn’t let himself think about his nakedness. The plug shifts in his ass, the chains pulling on his nipples. Alastair’s eyes seem to light up as he takes in the sight, and he licks his lips, slowly, while giving Dean a once over, gaze stopping hungrily on Dean’s dick trapped in the cock cage.

Dean sits down again. Gabriel starts rubbing his back.

“Leave,” Alastair tells the slave girl.

He smiles coyly as he watches the girl go. She closes the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone. Gabriel runs a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean shivers.

“Go ahead,” Alastair tells Gabriel, leaning back in his seat.

Dean’s heart is trying to burst through his ribcage, it seems. He doesn’t dare look up, eyes on his knees, hands gripping his thighs tight to hide the tremor of his body. The feel of Gabriel’s hand on his neck doesn’t help. It was bad idea. Dean should have gone back home when he had the chance.

Gabriel bends him over suddenly, pushing on his neck. Losing his balance, Dean has to hold himself up with his arms. But Gabriel pushes on his neck again until Dean keeps his head down, ass up in the air, half lying on Gabriel’s knees like the angel is about to spank him. Which is what they agreed they’ll do if Alastair seems into it. ~~~~

Panic makes Dean’s throat lock tight, but fortunately Gabriel just runs his hand slowly on the back of Dean’s thighs, up to his ass, then down again, barely grazing the plug until Dean can find his bearing again. The position reveals enough of him so that Alastair will have a clue of what’s going on, but not see anything clearly. Dean suspects Gabriel has a great view, though. It makes him shifty.

Gabriel keeps stroking Dean’s skin, slowly. Dean can feel the angel’s stomach expanding against his side with every breath. When Dean dares a look in Alastair’s direction, he sees the demon is smirking, staring straight at Gabriel. Dean supposes the angel is doing the same thing, staring back with an equally, if it’s even possible, disturbing smile.

Dean can’t help it, he starts wriggling, uncomfortable, as Gabriel’s hand gets close to his sensitive parts. In reaction, Gabriel slaps his ass, hard, getting a pained huff out of him. The action pushes Dean forward, causing the chains to pull on the clamps, and his shaft rub on the fabric of Gabriel’s pants through the bars of the cage. It’s not exciting. It burns a little.

“Stop squirming!”

Lowering his head, Dean obeys. He has no choice. He stays as still as he can, but there’s nothing he can do to stop his whole body from trembling. Gabriel, probably seeing how scared Dean is, squeezes his neck gently. Dean is aware the angel wouldn’t hurt him unnecessarily, but the prospect of what he could do, the anticipation, makes Dean’s heart speed up. He wants to be anywhere but here. He wants to go back to their room. He wants to go back home.

But he can do this, he knows. He thinks about the others, waiting at Gabriel’s. He tries to focus on them, on everything they could do if they manage to put Alastair away for good.

It’s hard to keep focusing though, when Gabriel’s hand starts _caressing_ his balls. He barely suppresses a yelp, and shivers instead. This is it. It’s starting. Vaguely, he remembers thinking the same thing the first time Gabriel touched him. It would almost be funny if Dean wasn’t buck naked in front of two adult men getting his balls fondled by one of them.

His mind goes blank when Gabriel wraps his hand around the base of the plug, pulling on it slightly. His face seems to catch on fire, and he hides between his arms. Seeing Alastair’s reaction wouldn’t help, anyway. Dean would rather pretend he’s alone with Gabriel. He tries. It’s easy, since Alastair isn’t making any sound, for now. Dean focuses on Gabriel’s breathing, imagines them back on the bed in their hotel room.

Gabriel takes his time, and it helps the fantasy even more. The angel pulls on the plug, then pushes it in again, the movements getting broader and broader as time passes. He’s probably doing it to tease Alastair, but knowing him, Dean is pretty sure he’s also trying to make Dean comfortable. Dean can’t say he’s grateful for it, not really, but he has to admit it helps a little. He’s just getting used to the feeling when Gabriel suddenly pulls, and doesn’t stop until the plug is out. Dean lets out a slight ‘humpf’, which sounds more like a held back moan. There’s a twinge of excitement somewhere in his lower belly as Gabriel replaces the plug with two of his fingers. Dean has to pull at it, bring it out of him. He has to convince himself that Gabriel’s touch is the only touch he reacts to. He doesn’t need the chocolates. The angel is all he needs.

Wait. Scratch that.

Gabriel’s using lube, that much is clearly indicated by the lack of a burning sensation, but all Dean feels is an uncomfortable fullness, and here he goes again. Panic comes back, full force, unexpected. He knows, for fuck’s sake, he knows he can’t feel anything anymore. His heart rate shoots up, and he’s pretty sure Gabriel can feel it where Dean’s stomach is pressed against his thighs.

It’s confirmed when the angel slowly strokes the space between his shoulder blades with his other hand, and Dean finally manages to think again. This is an act, right? A very elaborate, fucked up act, but an act nonetheless. He can do this. He knows the script. Right. _Inhale. Exhale. Good_.

Now all he needs to do is a little acting. Show Alastair who’s boss. In this case: Gabe. Right.

Dean starts by breathing more heavily, trying to shorten his breathing. Then, when Gabriel pushes his fingers in again, he lets out an aborted moan. It makes Gabriel jump a little bit, in what Dean assumes is surprise. Dean’s rather proud of himself. So he moans again, driving his hips forward once, twice, and adds a little broken, “Please,” at the end. Gabriel reacts appropriately, by making an annoyed sound. When Dean pushes back against his hand, he removes his fingers, and before Dean can know what’s happening, Gabriel’s hand lands on his ass, hard. This time, it’s a very real sound of pain, a strangled ‘ah!’ that comes out of Dean’s mouth. His ass cheek stings and the sound Gabriel’s hand made as it reached his skin seems to resonate in the tiny room.

“I thought he had problems,” Alastair comments. “But he looks fine to me.”

“We’ve been working on it,” Gabriel answers. “And I’ve trained him well, like I said. He’s more attuned to my touch than that of any other.”

Dean answers to that statement with another keening sound.

Alastair hums. “I see…”

“I have to admit I’m really proud of what I accomplished with him,” Gabriel goes on. His hand trails on Dean’s sack, until he finds his hole again and pushes two fingers in. “He’s all mine now. Entirely dedicated to me. Isn’t that right, Dean?”

Fuck. Dean looks up, trying to turn his head in Gabriel’s general direction. “Yes, Master,” he manages, weak.

Alastair doesn’t comment. Dean avoids his gaze when he hides his face into his arms again. He doesn’t want to see. He’s very aware of Gabriel’s third finger pushing inside him, a bit uncomfortable despite the lube, and the earlier session.

 “I know you want to discuss what happened to my brother…” Gabriel tells Alastair, ignoring Dean’s huff of discomfort. “I’ve been asked about it many times. And since you were doing business with him—“

“We’re not talking about that, yet,” Alastair interrupts. “Don’t make me cut down our first meeting. It wouldn’t work in your favor…”

Dean has trouble keeping still, now. He can’t help but peak through the cover of his arm, forgetting the acting for a moment.

“My apologies,” Gabriel answer after a short, startled pause. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You haven’t. But I’ll advise a bit of caution.” Alastair bends over a he speaks, eyes roaming over Dean’s body. “If you want to deal with me, you’ll have to follow my rules.”

Now Gabriel’s going a little bit faster, and Dean’s hips are bucking without his consent. The angel’s playing with him, avoiding his sweet spot so precisely that Dean knows he’s doing it on purpose. Even if he can’t get aroused, and even if touching his prostate now would probably make him feel like he was going to empty his bladder on Gabriel’s knees, doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the touch. The lack of pressure on his sweet spot is as good as if Gabriel was pounding into it.

“I’m aware,” the angel answers. His tone of voice is not subservient, though. “But you also have to understand that being here means I’m not taking care of my other duties. I can’t afford those kinds of little vacations every day.”

Alastair extends his hand, slowly, a finger tracing the curve of Dean’s back.  

“I know, I’m a busy man, too.” A pause. “So let’s get to the interesting part, shall we?”

Gabriel’s hand stills. Dean’s heart starts hammering against his ribcage again. The angel removes his fingers, and takes a breath, like he’s annoyed at having been interrupted. “What do you want to see?”

“I don’t want to see anything,” Alastair replies. “I want to experience what all the fuss is about. Your boy is famous. He had Lucifer break his little… _vow of chastity_ , after all…”

The fight or flight reflex is too strong in Dean, and he tries to push himself up hearing the words, but Gabriel’s hand is suddenly on his neck, keeping him down.

“He doesn’t like it,” he hears Alastair say.

“Like I told you, he’s mine. He reacts appropriately.”

“Nevertheless, I want to fuck him.”

“I don’t like other people touching him. And he doesn’t like it either.”

“I never said I was asking for your consent. Or,” Alastair snorts, “his.”

There’s a heavy moment of silence. Dean can barely breathe. His head is spinning, nausea taking over, and he’s barely aware he started shaking. All he can hear is the deafening sound of his blood pumping in his body at light speed.

“If you want to negotiate with me, you’ll have to make a concession or two, after all…” Alastair finally says.

Gabriel hums, like he’s thinking about it. If Dean’s biggest fear had a sound track, this would be it. “Fine. But you protect yourself. You’re a demon, after all. I don’t want you to soil him.”

Alastair chuckles. “Gabriel, you wound me.” Dean takes a peek from under his arm. Alastair is shaking his head, a small smile on his face. “But fine. If it makes you feel better.”

Protect himself? What does that mea—oh. Oh, no. No. Gabriel can’t be saying what Dean thinks he’s saying. He can’t. It wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t in the script.

Suddenly Gabriel’s pulling Dean up by his neck. Dean thought he would fight more, to be honest. It’s so unexpected, even after hearing them talk, that Dean loses all sense of danger, or of their missions. He panics. Hard. He tries to get up.

“No, no, no, plea—“

There’s a hand on his mouth, and another around his torso, pinning his arms to his body and holding him close to Gabriel, his back to him. Gabriel’s mouth is grazing his ear. “Did I say you could talk?”

He’s trapped, in this room, with an angel and a demon. He can’t move. Gabriel’s grasp on him is too strong. His heart is trying to burst out of his chest. He can’t breathe. His head is spinning so hard he can barely see anymore.

“Dean!”

He shakes his head. It’s more of a reflex than anything else.

“Right,” Gabriel goes on. “So you’ll keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, unless I tell you to use it, and you’ll do what you’re here for. Do you understand?”

Dean nods. What else can he do? Alastair is smirking at him, licking his lips, impatient. It’s like being back at Lucifer’s again, on that night where Dean saved Meg from something he had no idea would affect him for the rest of his life. The booth almost smells the same as Lucifer’s room. The purple curtains shine in the same way the black satin sheets did on Lucifer’s bed. It’s happening again. Tears well up in his eyes. He’s four again. He’s watching his life get thrown to Hell for something he doesn’t quite understand, yet, and the point of everything up until this moment seems to elude him under the weight of his fear.

A sob escapes him, muffled by Gabriel’s hand, and he goes lax in the angel’s arms.

“Now,” Gabriel says, calm. Cold. “If I let you go, will you behave?”

Maybe, just maybe, Dean heard a slight tremor in his voice, right there at the end of his sentence. But he’s too out of it to pay it much attention.

“You won’t like it if I have to make you behave, boy,” Gabriel adds.

Safest thing to do is to nod. Safest thing to do is to behave. Dean should be grateful it’s him, and not Sam, or Meg, or any other of his friends. He tries to remember that.

Gabriel lets go, and Dean loses his balance again. A tear rolls on his cheek. He doesn’t try to wipe it away. Instead, he just sits back next to Gabriel, back straight, hands on his knees and eyes on the floor. Survival instincts take over. He’s not Dean anymore. He’s a slave. And he’ll behave, and everything’s going to be fine. He’ll survive. That’s what he does.

Gabriel lets out a breath. “Apologies. My… brother did a lot of damage, as you can see.” Alastair doesn’t react. So Gabriel pats Dean’s thigh, and goes on. “How do you want him?”

“I want him to look at you while I fuck him,” Alastair answers like it’s obvious.

“Fine.”

The angel gestures to Dean to get up, which he does. His brain is on auto-pilot. He’s shaking, heartrate painfully high, but his body reacts, nonetheless, almost oblivious to what’s going to happen to it. He keeps his eyes on the floor.

Alastair stands up, too, and they’re suddenly so close Dean can smell nothing but the putrid smell of sulfur emanating from the demon. Alastair brushes his thumb on Dean’s nipple, reminding Dean of the clamp. He jumps a little, but keeps his back straight.

“He’s a fine specimen,” the demon comments, “I’ll give you that.” He pats Dean’s belly, raising an eyebrow. “But a bit pudgy. You feed him too much. It’s not good for him. Or for you.”

“What can I say,” Gabriel answers. There’s a bit of anger there. “He likes it when I hand-feed him. Indulging him makes me happy.”

Alastair chuckles darkly. “You Angels… you’re peculiar things, you know that?”

“To you, maybe. We think the same of your kind.”

“But you like what we do, don’t you? Or you wouldn’t be here…”

He turns Dean around so fast Dean doesn’t realize what happened until he’s facing Gabriel. Alastair’s hands are on his shoulders, and the demon’s face is in his neck. Alastair inhales, like he wants to take in Dean’s scent.

“Delicious.” His hands travel down Dean’s arms, making Dean shiver. “I get why you like him so much. He’s almost irresistible.”

Dean keeps a blank face. He can’t react, anyway, even if he wanted to. Gabriel’s hands are fisted into his lap, his knuckles turning white.

“Yes. That he is,” he answers.

Unexpectedly, Alastair pushes Dean forward. Dean stumbles, and his hands shoot up in front of him to avoid falling into Gabriel. Now he’s bent over, arms on each side of Gabriel’s legs, holding him up in this position. There’s not much room. He can’t move. He can feel the heat of Alastair’s body behind him. He shakes harder, looks down. He can’t look at Gabriel while this is happening.

The demon’s hand is on Dean’s ass, kneading the flesh. Dean swallows, hard, around the lump in his throat. Tears are coming back. He does nothing to stop them.

“I don’t have a habit of carrying human protections around,” Alastair comments like he’s telling the weather.

“Lucky for you, I do,” Gabriel says, snapping his fingers.

A condom appears in his hand, and he hands it to Alastair. There’s the noise of a zipper being pulled down, and the wrapping of the condom being torn open. Dean starts crying. He feels so pathetic, but he can’t help it. He’s shaking so hard now he can barely hold himself up, and so his only option to keep the position is to let his forehead rest on Gabriel’s shoulder. Alastair rubs his thumb on Dean’s hole and Dean’s body locks tight, every single muscle tensing painfully. When the blunt head of Alastair’s dick touches his ass, Dean starts sobbing, foreign noises making their way out of his throat. Gabriel’s hand is in his hair, on the back of his neck.

“I’m going to thoroughly enjoy myself,” Alastair laughs.

He grips Dean’s hips tight. There’s a knock at the door.

_There’s a knock at the door._

Alastair tsks, and steps away from Dean. Dean doesn’t dare move. “Come in,” the demon says, clearly annoyed, as he zips up his pants again.

Gabriel’s hand disappears from Dean’s neck, going down until it reaches lower, pushing down to silently ask Dean to kneel in between his legs. Which Dean does. The door opens.

“Sorry to interrupt…” Val’s voice. “We’re having a little problem that needs your handling.”

“This better be important,” Alastair answers, cold.

“It is, Sir. I’m truly sorry.”

Alastair sighs. “Fine. Give me a minute, I just need to finish this.”

Dean’s heart does a little flip as the door closes. Gabriel pulls him up, making him sit again. Alastair takes his place on his side of the booth again, looking slightly disappointed.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I need to shorten our meeting.”

“I understand,” Gabriel nods. “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice. I appreciate it greatly.”

Alastair waves at him, like it’s no big deal. Dean’s body is still so tense he doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to. For now he’s just trying to make himself as small as he can.

“We’ll continue this later,” Alastair goes on. “I’ll send word to you about your private party. I’m still curious about your boy.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel says.

He turns to Dean, point his chin toward his tunic laying discarded on the floor. Dean almost jumps on it, and put it back on as fast as he can. Alastair stands up. Gabriel does the same, and so Dean follows.

Gabriel extend his hand, until Alastair takes it. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Alastair smile is the most fake smile Dean’s ever seen, but Gabriel doesn’t seem to care. When Alastair waves to the door, they leave as quickly as possible without looking like they’re running away. Dean doesn’t watch where he’s going. He does nothing but stare at the floor, and follow Gabriel. His heart won’t calm down, his head is still spinning. He’s going to throw up.

He realizes idly while they’re in the elevator that tears are still spilling on his cheeks. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matter. Everything seems grey and dull, like he’s in a black and white dream. He manages to walk into the center of their living room before he can’t move anymore. His knees are shaking, and the pressure of the nipple clamps and the cage around his dick are suddenly too much. He wants to take them off. He needs to take them off. He fumbles with the cage, until he remembers Gabriel locked it with Grace, so he slides a hand under his tunic, not caring that Gabriel, behind him, probably has a great view of his ass. It’s just skin, he remembers, it’s just skin, just skin, it doesn’t matter.

“Dean…”

He sobs again because his fingers slip on the first clamp. He can’t even do that right. Christ! What is he doing here? He can’t even… can’t take off a fucking… who wears nipple clamps anyway? Isn’t that all kinds of fucked up? And he didn’t even protest when Gabriel suggested it. He just went with it because this is his fucking life now, isn’t it?

“Dean, don’t--!”

He pulls on the chains. The clamps make a clicking sound as they’re almost torn off his chest. He throws them away, hard, before the pain catches up with him, and he almost howls, falling on his knees, curling on himself like it will somehow help. It doesn’t.

Gabriel’s arms are around him. He’s crying again. Loudly. “T-take, take it off,” he manages, trying to pull the cage off by himself. It hurts a bit. He doesn’t care. What if he cut his own dick off? If he did at least nobody would want him anymore. He has no use for it, anyway. He’s as good as a fucking eunuch now. “Take it off!!”

“I will,” he hears Gabriel say through his desperate cries. “You have to calm down, first, okay? Dean. Calm down.” He slides his hand under Dean’s tunic. Dean doesn’t care. “I’m taking it off, okay? Breathe.”

Dean’s hand shoot up to Gabriel’s shoulder. He keeps a tight grip there, like he’s going to fall, or disappear if he doesn’t. In a few seconds, the cage is off. Dean lets out a shivering breath, and he falls forward into Gabriel, like he’s melting into him. Gabriel stills, like he’s surprised. Like he doesn’t want to be here, maybe.

Dean tries not to care. He can’t move. “Help me,” is all he can think to say.

“I…”

“Please…” the tears fall again. Another sob. God! He’s so pathetic. “I’m—I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I’m not…”

“It’s fine, you’re safe now,” Gabriel whispers in his ear, wrapping his arms around him. Dean cries into his shoulder. “You’re safe. Nothing happened. You’re fine.”

Dean breathes. In. Out. There’s no way out of this. So Dean does the only thing he can do, right now. He believes him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: heavy dub-con, non-con


	8. Over the Hills and Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Peeps! 
> 
> Please heed the tags, this chapter is a bit harsh! The worst part will be found under this sign ______/!\\_______  
> Content Warnings can be found in the end notes. 
> 
> Hope you like this chapter! Enjoy!

# CHAPTER 8 : Over The Hills And Far Away

 

“Not like this. On your back. I want to look at you.”

Lucifer’s voice is closer than Dean expected. He jumps when he hears it.

He still turns around, though, and lies on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I don’t indulge in the pleasures of the flesh often,” Lucifer says, smirking down at him. “I find it somewhat… disgusting. But it’s oddly pleasurable. So sometimes…” he trails off, running his hand along Dean’s side until he reaches his thigh. Dean starts shaking, his heart pumping so hard it feels like it’s going to burst.

He lets out a breath when he feels the angel’s hand slide between his legs.

“I’m going to give you a choice,” Lucifer says, bracing himself on the ground on each side of Dean’s head. “You can stay here with me. You’ll let me use you. I’ll never lie to you about it. You know what I want…” he bends forward. His breath is cold. “Or you let Gabriel take you away, and make you believe you’re safe. But you’ll never truly know his intentions. You’ll have to fear everything he does, and says. You’ll have to suffer through the guilt he’ll make you feel. You’ll want him to use you, because that’s how he works. This is what he does. And you’ll hate yourself for it.” Lucifer’s lips brush Dean’s cheek, sliding down to his ear. “So what do you choose? Either way, you’ll never be free again, Dean.”

Dean wants to answer. He has no voice.

“I knew you’d choose me,” Lucifer smiles, pleased.

They’re naked. Lucifer’s holding Dean’s hands above his head. Dean can’t move. Lucifer pushes in, Dean feels his flesh breaching his rim. It doesn’t hurt. It just feels… full. Must be because it’s a dream, he muses. It’s just a dream. But he can’t get out of it.

“Such a good little doggy,” Lucifer purrs against his mouth. “You take me so well.” Bucking his hips, his reaches for Dean’s mouth with his own, taking Dean’s lower lips in between his teeth and bites, hard. Dean tastes blood. When he pulls away…

Gabriel is staring back at Dean with blood on his lips. He licks it away. “I missed you,” he whispers.

And he’s moving against Dean, dick hot inside him. There’s a burst of pleasure running through Dean, foreign, but familiar at the same time. Dean welcomes it like an old friend, pulls at it. His legs wrap around Gabriel’s hips, dictating his pace, urging him to go faster.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Dean,” Gabriel pants, pumping his hips harder. Dean can hear their skins slap against each other. “If you let me, I will, I swear,” the angel keeps saying.

Dean can’t make a sound, not even one of pleasure, even though his whole body seems to be seizing with it. He’s close, so close, and yet he’s not coming. It’s hot, and good, but somehow it’s slightly too much, too.

“You can’t come unless I want you to,” Gabriel says like he’s reading his mind. “But don’t worry. If you’re good, I’ll let you. Will you be good for me, Dean?”

He doesn’t know how to answer. Does he want to be good? He feels like he can’t choose. He can’t do anything, really. Not move, not speak. Nothing.

“I’ll never hurt you. You just have to say yes, Dean.”

_I don’t know._

“Just once,” he stills inside Dean, peppering his neck with delicate kisses. “Just say it.”

_I can’t._

Gabriel sighs, rests his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, then.”

He looks up, and he’s not Gabriel anymore. Alastair is grinning at him, like he’s looking at some nice, delicious dish. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you, boy.”

He’s hot inside of Dean and it burns, it burns, it burns so much Dean wants to scream, but he can’t because there are hands around his neck, squeezing. He can’t breathe. His heart pumps hard inside his chest, until it skips a few beats. Dean actually feels it stop, and watches, helpless, as Alastair’s smile grows and he starts fucking Dean’s limp body.

It’s a pain like none Dean has known before. It rips him apart, tears him in half, until black dots appear in front of his eyes. He tries to claw at the hands choking him. He can’t see anything anymore. He can’t see and it hurts, it hurts, god it hurts so bad!

“Dean,” Alastair’s coos. “Oh, Dean... Dean, Dean, Dean—“

“DEAN!!”            

Dean gasps, eyes flying open. He can breathe, he realizes. He can breathe. Everything’s fine. Someone’s calling his name.

“Dean, you’re fine, it was just a dream,” Meg says, hands coming to cup his face. “Look at me, it was just a dream, okay?”

Dean’s eyes find hers, and he opens his mouth to tell her that yes, he’s aware, and he’s okay, but his throat is dry, and it hurts a little, like he just screamed himself hoarse. Which he probably did. Fuck. Even his dreams won’t let him rest in peace now, shit!

He coughs a little before he’s finally able to talk. “I’m good,” he croaks, sitting up.

Meg eyes him, not entirely convinced. She waits until he blinks the sleepiness away before she opens her mouth. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lies.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wants it to disappear, go away like it never existed. Like he never broke down in front of Gabriel.

“Don’t fuck with me, Winchester.”

“Fine, I don’t wanna talk about it. Nothing happened, you happy?”

Her mouth tightens like she’s thinking of punching the events of last night out of him, but instead of yelling, or prying it out of him, she just sighs. “Fine. But it wasn’t nothing. It was Alastair. And you know I can understand. So, if you ever want to tell me about it—“

“I won’t.”

“Then I want you to know I’m here for you. Okay?” She stares, and stares, unnervingly, until he nods. “Good. Now come outside. Cas is here. Breakfast is served.” She pats his head and ruffles his hair before she exits the room.

It’s always the same thing when he wakes up. He needs to brace himself, to mentally get ready to face the day. Today it’s even harder. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to face Gabriel and be forced to remember what happened the night before. But he has to. He knows he has to.

His morning ritual is almost mechanical. Get out of bed, take a shower, enjoy the water pressure for a few minutes, get out, get dry, put on clean underwear, put on sweatpants and a t-shirt, just for an hour or two, take a clean tunic out of the closet for later, remind himself to go down to do the laundry, take a breath, step out the bedroom.

Like Meg said, Gabriel, Cas and her are sitting outside on the balcony. It’s sunny, and warm, as it always is. There’s food, like every morning. Dean is not hungry. He sits on the only empty chair, between Meg and Gabriel. His skin crawls, being so close to the archangel. He remembers how he cried when Alastair…

He huffs, reaching for an apple. “So, what’s up?”

They all stare at him. He pretends he doesn’t notice.

Gabriel clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Dean answers, biting into his apple, a bit more violently than the fruit deserves. “Slept like a baby, didn’t you hear?” He glares at Gabriel, who has the decency to look down in shame.

Sighing, Meg reaches for the pot of coffee, and pours two cups, handing one to Dean. “So, the meeting with Alastair…” she starts. Dean tries not to pause as he hears the name. He fails. “Gabriel says you were interrupted.”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, taking a sip of his coffee. “But at least he’s willing to see us again. And talk. So there’s that.”

Meg raises an eyebrow at him. “At what cost?”

“Meg,” Castiel says, soft. It sounds like they had some very interesting talks of their own.

She ignores him. “What’s it gonna be next time, huh?” And her gaze seems to pierce through Dean, like she can see everything that happened, even if he doubts Gabriel said anything about it. “You don’t want to talk about it, Gabriel doesn’t want to talk about it, so I’m guessing something happened. No, Dean, shut up,” she exclaims when he opens his mouth in protest. “I know you. I do. You just woke up the whole neighborhood with your screaming, so don’t tell me you’re fine!”

He takes a sip of his coffee. There’s nothing to say, because she already decided he doesn’t know what he’s doing, so he might as well play along. “I’m not saying anything, then.”

And, oh, there! That’s a murderous look if Dean ever saw one. “Don’t play cute with me, Dean.”

“I’m not. You apparently know better than any of us. So, fine. We’re all listening to you, Miss Masters.” His voice is coated in simmering anger. “Enlighten us. What should we do?”

Why is it so hard for people to understand? Of everyone around him, she should be the one to get it. She should get that they need to bear through this so other people don’t. What is she expecting? That he’ll nod and agree with her, yes, they shouldn’t do this, Dean went through this for nothing. It was useless.

But it wasn’t. They’re getting somewhere. She should see that.

“What she means,” Castiel tries, “is that she worries for you. We all do.”

Dean snorts. “Right. Thanks. Should’ve thought about it before we all decided it was a good plan to come here in the first place.”

Meg throws her hands in the air. “That’s not the point!”

“It’s fine,” Dean counters, on edge. “Okay? I’m handling it!”

“Okay, you are. But is he?!”

Meg is looking pointedly at Gabriel. Dean rolls his eyes, he can’t help it. “What does it has to do with anything?”

“She thinks I’m taking advantage of you,” Gabriel says, quiet.

It had the advantage of making everyone shut up. Surprising everyone, Dean starts laughing. “So I’m not old enough to know what I’m doing, now? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Of course not,” Meg protests.

“No, no,” Dean goes on. “Please, tell me. Mean old archangel is using me and I don’t even see it, right? So you’re going to protect me.”

“Dean, that’s not what I’m saying. You’re overreacting.”

“I don’t get what you’re trying to do, Meg. I really don’t.”

“I’m not trying to do anything!! I just don’t get why you have to go through all that sick sex stuff just to win some demon’s trust!”

“Because that’s what they do! They’re demons, they use people!”

“Well he’s an angel, he doesn’t need to do that to you!”

“Fuck, Meg. You agreed to participate to that ‘sick sex stuff’,” Dean bursts, air-quoting the last words, “so you’re really not in position to tell me what we can or can’t do! You’re just jealous!”

“Fuck you, Dean. I’m not jealous, I worry for you!”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about!!”

Dean’s voice cracks at the end, and he blinks, realizing he stood up. Anger pulses inside him, making his limbs shake. There’s genuine fear in Meg’s eyes, and Dean deflates at the sight, sitting down again.

“Sorry.”

“No,” Meg says, softly. “I’m sorry. You didn’t… I shouldn’t’ve…”

“Yeah, well, you did…”

“But I didn’t mean…”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Good, yeah,” Dean lets out. He’s angry. He shouldn’t be. She didn’t do anything wrong, she’s just trying to protect him. But she can’t. Nobody can. Truth is he knows who he’s angry at, but there’s nothing he can do about it for now with Cas and Meg present.

He sighs. “Did you go to see the fights?” He eyes Cas, who nods, then turns to Meg.

“Yeah,” she answers.

“You still want to participate?”

She shrugs. “We said we would, so…”

Dean hums. He takes another bite of his apple, because there’s nothing else he can do. He can’t storm out. He can’t take a breather. He can’t look at Gabriel, or make a joke to lighten the mood. Castiel is sitting so straight he looks like he forgot how to breathe.

“I think I’m onto something,” Meg says, out of nowhere.

The angels look at her, curious. Dean doesn’t have the energy to say anything.

“There’s this guy… one of the slaves’ handlers. I think he likes me. I think he knows things.”

Castiel looks slightly uncomfortable. “Meg, you can’t—“

“Fuck you,” she interrupts. “You’re not telling me what I can or can’t do!”

Dean is very aware of the irony of what she just said, but he doesn’t tell her. He doesn’t want things to get worse. He himself is this close to another break down.

“I’m not telling you what to you,” Cas smiles, placating. “I just want you to promise me you’ll be careful.”

She pouts, leaning back in her seat. “Yeah.”

“Good. Thank you.”  

There’s something weird in the way they interact. Cas knows exactly how to diffuse her anger, which is, Dean has to admit, making him slightly jealous. He wishes he could do the same as easily. They’re rather… not cute, no, that’s not the word, but they seem to work well together. Huh.

“I’m afraid I’m assigned to our room while you uncover what you can,” Cas goes on, frowning at his plate of fruits like it personally offended him. “It seems word has been given around not to talk to me. Or serve me.”

Meg gives him a sympathetic look. “I’ll try to be quick, and we can take a walk this afternoon if you want?”

“That would be very pleasant, yes,” Cas perks up.

What’s happening? Meg never takes walks. She just doesn’t. But, if she’s enjoying her freedom, who is Dean to tell her anything about it? He wishes he could do the same, really. It sends his already bad mood spiraling down, resentment against this whole thing, against Gabriel, even more present than before. Meg sees the downward turn at the corner of his lips, and she seems to lean away from him.

“Okay, well,” she says, standing up. “We should go, Cas.”

Cas frowns again, but one look between Dean and Gabriel makes his eyebrow shoot up in understanding. “Yes,” he answers. “Gabriel, let us know when you hear about Alastair again.”

“Sure,” Gabriel tells him.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even watch Cas and Meg leave. They’re alone again, and Dean is paralyzed. He has no idea what to say, or what to do. What can he do, anyway? Nothing. If he had his way, he would leave the room. Go see the sights. Do something other than stay cooped up here with the guy who ruined his life, and continues to do it.

“You’re mad at me,” Gabriel states, surprising Dean.

Dean finally looks at him. The angel is staring back, eyebrows drawn close to each other, like he’s trying to figure out what Dean’s thinking.

“No,” Dean lies. “I’m just tired.”

What a load a bull. Gabriel sees right through it.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Obviously, it’s not true, you’ve been avoiding looking at me, and you’re straight up lying to me. You’re mad. Just tell me why.”

A bitter laugh leaves Dean’s mouth. “Why do you think? Christ,” he shakes his head. “You were willing to let Alastair fuck me! You didn’t even try to stop him. Did you think I’d thank you?”

Gabriel looks away briefly. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, a disgusted twist to his mouth, “you always are. Always too late.”

“What did you want me to—“

“No! no,” Dean bursts out, standing again. “You can’t do that. You always do that! You should’ve said ‘NO’ and that’s it!!”

“Yeah, well,” Gabriel scrapes back his chair angrily, “I couldn’t!!”

This, Dean was waiting for. For Gabriel to show something other than pity, and how sorry he is. Anger is good. Anger Dean can work with.

“My ass,” Dean spits back at him. “You didn’t even try to protest! You just went with it! He said he wanted to fuck me and you were so focused on getting something to get your precious Michael out of his cell that you forgot about me!!”

“Don’t… don’t you dare, Dean,” Gabriel’s voice is cold, dripping with barely held back anger, “don’t you dare say I forgot about you.”

Standing up, he stalks off the balcony.

Dean goes after him, spinning him around. “Hey, we’re not done!”

“Yes, we are,” Gabriel grits out. “I’m tired, I don’t want to fight!!”

“You’re tired!” Dean throws his head back, laughing unhappily, “You’re tired! That’s friggin’ rich!” He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, God. He’s so pissed! “Don’t you think I’m not tired? Jesus, Gabriel, listen to yourself! All you have to do is be your douchey self and you’re _tired_?!” Dean laughs again, bitter, to prove his point further. To make it hurt more.

“Yes, Dean, yes, I’m tired, because I have to be so careful with you, all the time! I can’t touch you, but you need me to help you.” He throws his arms in the air. “You don’t want me to talk to you but you need me to reassure you that everything’s going to be okay. You don’t want to be here with me but you need me to ‘grow some balls’ and do my job, well, I’m doing it, Dean! I do what I can, but I can’t do it if you change your fucking mind every time something happens!!”

Dean snorts despite himself. “You know,” his fists tightens at his side, “that’s low, even for you…”

“I don’t care, okay? You knew what you were in for when you said yes to this--”

“When you FORCED me to say yes, you mean…”

“I did not forced you into anything! You volunteered!”

“Because it was either me or Sam!! Jesus,” Dean exclaims, hot rage boiling inside him, “You were willing to take my own brother with you to save yours! You wanted him to go through all this, through the, the rapes, and the torture! What was I supposed to do?!”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Gabriel counters, “Sam asked me to take him with me!”

“And you knew I couldn’t let that happen!”

 “And so you came here willingly!” Gabriel insisted “I’m not holding you against your will here. So you wanna go? Fine, go back home, wherever that is for you. I don’t care anymore.”

“And what?” Dean waves him off. “Abandon the others?”

“Why do you care, hm? I’m the one who has to deal with it, with all of it!”

“Oh, oh, okay, so it’s my fault, now?” Dean shakes his head. “Maybe you’d rather I never showed up, so you could be sitting peacefully at home with your slaves? It would’ve been better if you could keep abusing them, but, hey, too bad you had to buy me, right? Now you have some free people on your hands and you don’t know what to do with them!”

“I never said that!”

“No, no you didn’t. But you’ve thought about it, didn’t you?”

“The only thing I’m thinking about right now is how easy it would be if you’d have just left and never come back!!”

 Dean rears back, almost like he’s been slapped. “Wow,” Dean nods. “Oookay.”

“That’s…,” Gabriel steps forward, edging close to Dean, “No, wait, It’s not what I meant, Dean, I’m just--“

“Tired, yeah,” Dean answers, taking a step back. “I heard. You’re tired of me. I get it.”

“Look,” Gabriel sighs, “I’m as lost as you are, believe me, Dean, I am, I don’t know how to behave with you, I try but I—“

“No, no, you’re right. You don’t have to try anything, okay?” Dean backs away a little more, “Just do your thing, I’m fine. You wanna save your brother, I get it.” He shrugs. “I’m just a means to an end. It’s fine.”

“You’re exaggerating! I never said that!”

“I don’t care,” Dean says. Cool. Detached. “You’re an angel. You can only think about yourself, and that’s fine. I just forgot about it. It’s cool.”

“it’s not cool.”

“you’re right I don’t want to fight, either. End of discussion,” Dean states, final, as he moves further away.

“Dean.”

“I’m done,” Dean says, walking around the couch and sitting down heavily. “I’m not listening to you anymore. Unless you’re talking about the case. Just… don’t talk to me, okay? Let’s just stop pretending we’re… something. We’re nothing. We both know you’ll always behave like humans are your things so… yeah. Let’s just keep it at that. You tell me what to do, I do it, everything’s peachy, alright?”

Silence. Dean doesn’t look to see what face Gabriel’s pulling.

“If that’s what you want…”

“Yeah, it is.”

Dean grabs the remote, turning the TV on, and silence settles between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Gabriel clears his throat once, twice, but Dean doesn’t look at him. He won’t give him the pleasure.

“Val sent another note while you were sleeping,” Gabriel finally says, cold.

Dean turns at that, raising an eyebrow.

Gabriel fetches the note from the table, and brings it back to Dean who reads it quickly. The demon wants to see Gabriel at dinner to discuss the eventually of another private party hosted by Gabriel.

“What did you answer?”

“I told him we’ll meet him tonight,” Gabriel says, “but I didn’t say anything about the party. I wanted to talk about it with you first.”

Nodding, Dean stands up, eyes on the note. Another party, probably for Alastair, would mean another night of sexual torture and humiliation for Dean. He’s sure of it. He knows Alastair wants to see him ‘in action’. What if Cas wants to come? It would put Meg in danger, too. Shit. But what if it’s the last straw, the last thing to do to convince Alastair to do business with Gabriel? It’s definitely something they can’t say ‘no’ to. So, either they can ask for some time, which would probably be suspicious, or they can say ‘yes’. Not much of a choice, now, is it? Like always, really.

Sighing, Dean scratches his head. He’s not sure how to feel about it. There’s not much to feel, anyway. Only fear, anxiety, shame in anticipation of what’s to come. They have no choice. Dean has no choice. They have to accept. Doesn’t mean Dean has to be gracious about it.

“You go,” he lets out, giving Gabriel the note back. “I don’t feel like it, today.”

He leaves Gabriel standing alone in the living room. Quickly, he gets rid of his clothes, puts the tunic on, and grabs the bag of dirty laundry. He needs to get out of here. Making Gabriel feel like a dick because Dean has to behave like a slave? That’s just a bonus, really.

 

**_____________**

 

The meeting with Val went rather well, considering the demon was still mad at Gabriel. Or that’s what Gabriel told Dean, anyway. As Dean suspected it would happen, Alastair asked for the party to take place as soon as possible. Dean doesn’t stop to think about it, really. He can’t. He spends the next day in total silence, lost between a feeling of utter fear and a slight indifference that started creeping up at the back of his mind after his fight with Gabriel.

Castiel asked to be invited. Another thing Dean knew would happen. Meg tried to shake Dean, to argue with him, threatening him she’ll come if he didn’t react. He didn’t, anyway. He knows her, he knows she’s going to be there, no matter what he does. All Dean wants now is to get ready, get a few hours of peace, because the party is tomorrow night, and he’s so anxious that he feels like his conscience is floating out of his body.

As evening draws close, the angels and Meg leave him alone, finally. Castiel manages to convince Gabriel it’d be a good idea to have him at his side, so Gabriel is going to talk to Val about it.

Dean spends his time alone on the balcony, leaning over the railing as he observes the city underneath him. He manages to keep his mind occupied with silly things, stuff like if Val’s actual name is Valaach, but everyone shortens his name, does that mean they also call Alastair ‘Al’? And if so, does he know about it? Does he allow it? It’s ridiculous enough that he gets caught inside his own head, trying to come up with some stupid nicknames the demons could give each other, and he doesn’t hear Gabriel coming back.

“Val really doesn’t like Cas…” Dean jump as he turns around. Gabriel is standing in the doorway, like he doesn’t want to come any closer. “But I managed to sway him,” he goes on. “Meg will have to fight in the show tonight, though. D’you wanna go see her?”

Dean is tired. So tired. He wants to be there for Meg, he truly does, but he just can’t.

“Did she ask for me?”

“No.”

“Then, no, thanks.”

Humming thoughtfully, Gabriel turns his back on Dean, walking away. Dean looks up at the sky again. No stars, nothing but the lights of the city illuminating everything around them, making everything look artificial. The front door closes, hard, the sound of it reverberating in the room. Dean sighs.

Two weeks, now. Minus a couple of days. He’s not sure he can do it. He holds on to the idea of his friends, of why he’s doing this, but even that leaves a sour taste in his mouth, and indifference makes his thoughts drift again.

He tries not to think about Meg, and what she’s going through.

 

**_____________**

 

There’s a world between trying to imagine the reality of slavery and actually living it. Jason learned that the hard way. But survival is survival, and if there’s another thing he learned in the last few days, it’s that this wonderful instinct allows you to do things you wouldn’t even dream of doing in your most horrible nightmare, just for the sake of living to see another day.

He has a little boy to go home to, after all. That’s reason enough to do whatever it will take.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, boy,” the slave handler barks at him.

Jason doesn’t retort. He obeys, because that’s what he’s here for, after all. The others lined up against the damp wall of the cellar they’re in don’t get it. They really don’t. They cling to their freedom like they can still escape, like there’s still hope. But the truth is, none of them can go back to what they were. They were kidnapped from their hotels, from their jobs, from the streets even. But they were all so far away from home that nobody will think of looking for them for a couple of weeks, at least. Jason doesn’t want to say he knows better, but at least he figured out that the only way of surviving, for now, was to play along.

They’d been separated from another group of kidnapped humans, earlier during the day, after spending three awful days hurled up together in some piss stained, shit smelling containers, without food, and with barely enough water to allow them all to survive the trip. Some had been so weak after that they could barely walk on their own.

The demons only kept the strong ones, the healthy ones, men and women alike. There’s only one teenager with them, now. A football player, probably, judging by his build. Some rich kid, who never had any problem in his life. Now all he does is either cry, or fight. Poor fucker. He’s not getting out of here alive if he keeps at it.

“Is this it?”

Jason straightens up, doing his best to fight curiosity and not to look at the two new demons who walked into the dark room.

“Yes, Sir,” the other replies. “Like I told you… we had a problem with one of the trains and we lost a good portion of what we had. Those are the only one who came in intact. And in good health, I might add.” His voice is deep, like a low rumble that shakes Jason to the core. His accent is weird, hard to place.

The other demon, his boss, Jason assumes, hums thoughtfully, before coming to stand before all of them. Which is, not a lot. Four men, including him, and three women, plus the teenager.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway…” he says, eyes roaming over them all, “I want the archangel’s pet. He’s special, Valaach. I have to have him. I think he’s the answer to all our problems.”

“We can’t take it from him, though…”

“No, we can’t…” the other replies. His eyes stop on Jason, taking him in. “But maybe…”

Jason tries not to shift under the weight of the heavy calculating gaze. The Boss demon takes a step toward him, smirking. “Take off your clothes.”

There’s no time for hesitation. No space for Jason to think about it, or be scared. After what he went through in the containers, it’s not a little bit of nudity that’s going to stop him. He sheds his t-shirt in one broad move, unbuttoning his jeans as fast as he can, pulls them and his underwear down all at once and steps out of them, keeping as straight as he can.  The demon’s smirk grows wider.

“I like him,” he says, turning to Valaach. “He kind of looks like Gabriel’s pet, don’t you think?”

“Maybe if we cut his hair a little shorter… he’s the right built, I’d say more muscular than Dean but he could do… the eyes are the same, and the hair color matches, yes, why?”

“All we need to get the pet is to distract the Master with something prettier.” He looks down on Jason’s body, a little laugh escaping him. “And this one will prove to be a much, ah, bigger distraction.”

Valaach laughs at his boss’s joke. Jason doesn’t move. If he has a purpose, then that means he’s not dead. Not yet.

“You’re a clever one,” the Boss tells Jason. “You want to go home, don’t you?”

It could be a trick question, but Jason sees a spark of something in the demon’s eyes, and so he plays along. “Yes,” he rasps. His voice is broken, lost into his dry throat. He tries not to think about it.

“Then let’s strike a deal. You give me what I want, and I give you what you want.”

A deal with a demon, huh? Not a good idea, not by any standard, but Jason’s desperate. Even if the demon tries to fuck him over, he’d still be alive, he’d still be here to do something about it.

“What do you say?”

Jason looks the demon in the eyes. He swallows. “Yes,” he says, unblinking. “Whatever you need, _Master_.”

 

 **______/!\\_______**  

 

Dean takes one last breath. The demons are all sitting in the main room, and Dean and Meg are getting ready in the kitchen, where Meg has been busy for a while, preparing hors d’oeuvres for everyone. For now, Gabriel is entertaining his guests, introducing Cas to all of them.

Meg comes behind Dean, where he’s standing near the door, and takes his hand in hers.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Dean whispers, squeezing her hand.

She nods, coming close and burying her nose in his chest. He wraps his arms around her and closes his eyes. They spend long minutes like this, in each other’s arms, just breathing and trying to relax.

“Dean!”

Dean jumps, Gabriel’s voice seemingly echoing all the way from the living room. Letting go of Meg, he gives her one last kiss on the forehead before leaving the kitchen.

The main room seems crowded. There’s Alastair, next to Gabriel. Val, Castiel, Crowley, and three other demons. None of them brought a slave. They’re sitting in a circle, some on the sofa, some on chairs that have been brought up. The coffee table disappeared. In its place, on the floor, is a pile of comforters and pillows, it almost looks like an arena. A very comfy arena.

Gabriel snaps his fingers at Dean, indicating the pile of pillows. Dean steps forward and kneels in the middle of it. Meanwhile, Meg entered the room, and is now serving the demons the food she prepared. She put it down on the pedestal table next to Alastair, and goes to kneel next to Cas.

Dean remembers to keep breathing, to keep calm, as he tries to keep the beating of his heart even. He’s been through this, already. It’s not that terrible. Especially since Gregory’s not here, he knows Gabriel won’t let anybody other than him touch Dean. Dean has nothing to fear, really, beside the slight humiliation of having to have sex in front of other people. But even that is not as terrible as it first was. He’s getting used to it. The angry feelings he’s still harboring for Gabriel might be a problem. He’ll try not to let them overcome him.

“You’re the guest of honor,” Gabriel says, turning to Alastair, “what would you like Dean to do?”

Alastair’s smile is nothing if not promising. He eyes Dean, and leans back in his seat.

“They know each other,” he says, pointing to Meg and Dean.

Dean can only hear the surprise in Castiel’s voice. “Y- yes. They served together under Lucifer.”

Alastair hums in approval. “Good. Come here, Girl. I want those two to fuck each other.” Then, at Cas, “you don’t mind, do you?”

There’s a second of silence, a clear moment of hesitation from Cas. Then, “No,” Castiel almost growls, “of course not.”

Meg comes behind Dean, slowly. She takes off her tunic, and kneels next to him. It’s not the first time Dean’s seen her naked. He can’t say it brings back good memories, though.

“Go on,” Alastair chimes, “just pretend we’re not here.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” Meg tentatively says, voice small, “can we have some protection?”

Dean’s never heard her sound so anxious. Even with Lucifer. It throws him off, annihilating all his efforts to stay calm. Gabriel snaps his fingers and some condoms, a bottle of lube and two pieces of the hotel’s chocolate appear in front of them. Dean decides he’s going to make it easy for Meg.

Grabbing the pieces of chocolate, he brings one to Meg’s mouth, shuffling on his knees until he’s facing her. She opens her mouth and lets him feed her the chocolate, a look of desperation on her face. He eats his own piece quickly and starts kissing her. This was all the demons were waiting for, apparently, because they start chatting again.

“I hear you’re going to open a new club in New-York,” Crowley says.

Alastair hums in answer. Dean tries not to listen to what they’re saying. He’d rather focus on Meg, who’s trembling in his arms, barely kissing back. He comes to lick at her neck, taking advantage of the dim lighting of the room to whisper in her ear, “Relax, it’s just me, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“This is not how I wanted our first time to go,” she whispers back.

“I know…”

“You’re here to fuck, not to chat,” Gabriel snaps.

Out of reflex, Dean almost tell him to go fuck himself if he’s looking for some quick action, but he prevents himself at the last second. The angel must’ve had a reason to say something. Alastair probably looked at them funny. But Dean can’t help feeling angry at the angel for the remark. Especially since it sounded… well, not like Gabriel. At all. It’s like someone shoved a stick so far up his ass he’s not even behaving like himself anymore.  But Dean could be imagining things. They’re all in a situation of stress, after all. Maybe Gabriel doesn’t sound off at all and Dean really is just imagining things. It’s probably his anger talking.

He kisses Meg again to help her relax, lying her down under him as he does so. She huffs nervously, but doesn’t complain. His hands trail over her body, barely grazing her skin. He won’t need to do that for long, though. He can already feel the effects of the chocolates on his body, his dick filling with blood steadily, arousal rising in him. It’s probably the same for her. He can see it in the way she kisses back with a little bit more passion, in how tight her grip on his biceps is becoming.

Sliding his hand between her legs, he sees she’s nicely wet already. She lets out a breath when his fingers find her clit, circling it teasingly without really touching it. Dean’s into it, now. This he knows. Girls. Women. He’s good with them. He can make it good for her. That way this night has a chance of not becoming a bad memory.

“… can’t believe it worked so well,” one of the demon laughs.

Dean doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He glances toward Gabriel quickly, to see if at least he’s making friends with Alastair, which is kind of the goal of the whole thing. But Gabriel is not participating in the conversation. Instead, he’s staring at Dean’s hand between Meg’s legs, one hand over his mouth, the other gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

He slides down Meg’s body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, sucking on the delicate skin of her breast, tongue darting out to taste it as he goes on until he reaches her navel and he stops there for a while. When he looks up at her, her eyes are closed, her brows furrowed. The conversation between the demons seems to have come to a stop as well. Dean can feel their eyes on him. So he takes his time, kissing each of Meg’s thighs thoroughly, before he finally plunges his tongue between her labia. He’s a bit scared about that, too, because it’s Meg, and she’s special to him. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

But it goes fine. She tastes and smells slightly like cinnamon, which is a nice surprise. Slowly, he starts going through the alphabet with his tongue. A and B on her clit, C and D under it, E and F above it, on and on until he’s half-way through his second round and Meg is a writhing mess under him. He wonders if it’s the chocolate or if she’s always so loud. It’s a nice change. Gabriel isn’t that vocal.

Wasn’t. Wasn’t that vocal.

His dick twitches at the thought of the angel, and Dean can’t help glancing his way, tongue still lapping between Meg’s legs. Gabriel is not looking at him, though. Alastair is whispering something in his ear and he’s nodding, thoughtful.

Good. It’s weird, anyway, Dean is still resentful, and there’s no way in Hell he’d want the archangel to fuck him after everything Gabriel did or said to him. He needs to focus on the task at hand.

Pulling away, he bites playfully at Meg’s thigh, and goes up again. As he kisses her, the taste of her mingling between them, he manages to find a condom blindly and he lets go of her to tear at the wrapping. Meg rests her arms above her head, staring at him from underneath her eyelashes like she wants to tell him she’s going to rip him a new one if he doesn’t hurry. Fuck, it’s hot. Dean unrolls the condom on his length quickly and lies between Meg’s legs again. She wraps them around his hips, urging him to enter her.

Dean can still feel the eyes of the demons on him. But now it’s turning him on. He knows they’re watching, and he knows Gabriel is watching, and it makes him so hard that the steady pumping of blood in his dick is almost painful. Cas is here as well, and oddly it makes it all the more exciting.

When he slides inside her, he has to close his eyes. They both let out a breath at the same time as he bottoms out, and he starts moving right away, careful not to pump his hips too hard for fear he’ll hurt her. He hasn’t done that with a woman in a while. He feels like he could break her with just one slightly wrong move.

He forces his eyes open, bending down to give Meg a quick kiss. He’s getting there really, really fast, so he tries to slow down a bit, not knowing what the demons want to see or not. What Alastair want to see or not. She follows him as he pulls away, head rising to chase his mouth, so he obliges her, licking at her mouth as he grabs the underside of her thigh to get a better grip.

Her moans and noises of pleasure cover most of the other sounds in the room, and Dean almost doesn’t hear Gabriel as the angel speaks again.

“Meg, are you close?”

Dean’s rhythm falters for a second. He stops kissing Meg. She doesn’t notice, it seems.

“Meg.”

She opens one eye and lowers her gaze when she sees Gabriel. The blush on her cheeks intensifies, and she clears her throat, holding back a whine. “Getting there, M—Ah! Master.”

What is Gabriel playing at? Dean glances toward him, keeping the pace of his hips without really knowing if he should. He’s confused and turned on and he doesn’t see where Gabriel is going. Is he putting on a show for Alastair? He never intervened like that before.

“What about you, Dean?”

What the fuck is happening? Dean has to slow down and swallow the bile rising in his throat before looking at the angel and answering him: “Yea- Yes. Yes, I am. I’m close.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him, and Dean has a sudden flash back to the first day they met. “Yes, you’re close, what?” There’s no trace of compassion in the angel’s voice.

Dean can’t help but frown. He clears his throat. “Yes, I’m close, _Master_ ,” he pants.

“Stop moving.”

Dean does, not without difficulty, and throws Gabriel an angry look.

“Oh, look at that,” Alastair smiles, “he still has a bit of a fight in him, hasn’t he? Must be fun to fuck it out of him.”

“It was at first, yes,” Gabriel answers, “but he’s just playing, now. There’s no bite to it, look at him. He’s like a domesticated cat.”

Dean looks down at Meg, confused and angry. She’s giving him a lost look. He can’t even imagine the face Cas must be pulling by now.

Alastair chuckles, clasping Gabriel on the back. “If he’s boring you, I can find you another wild one. I think I have exactly what you need.”

“That would be very thoughtful of you,” Gabriel says, before turning to Dean and Meg again. “Now, Meg, on your side, facing us.”

Which means she’ll have her back on Cas, and only Alastair and Gabriel in her line of sight. Dean pulls out of her and lets her move, sitting back on his heels, before looking at Gabriel, waiting to know what he wants, now. He tries not to look too angry. But it’s difficult. The familiar need to punch Gabriel in the face is back full force, now. And his dick hurts, on top of that.

“Dean, behind her. That way you’ll be able to put your hands to use.”

 _Oh, yeah, very thoughtful, too, Gabe_ , Dean wants to spit at him. But obviously he doesn’t, and does as he’s told, gritting his teeth. Entering Meg again is a relief, despite everything. She sighs blissfully, too, as Dean starts moving again, hand sliding down to find her clit.

“Meg, you can come whenever you like. I encourage you to do so,” he tells her. “And Dean… let’s keep it nice and tight, shall we? And then I’ll decide if you get to come or not tonight.”

Dean has to close his eyes because he doesn’t know how he’ll react if he looks at Gabriel. “Eyes on me,” the angel adds.

Dean’s eyes snap open, and fall on the angel. He wishes laser eyes were a thing. If he could kill Gabriel with just a look he would right now. Gabriel is staring back with defiance, almost daring. Dean can’t control his rhythm anymore. He snaps his hips harder and harder each time, pouring all his frustration and anger in his movements. Meg seems to like it, if her cries of pleasure are any indication, so Dean stops worrying about her.

 _Fucking angel_ , he thinks. _Fuck you_ , snap, _if you think_ , snap, _that you’re being funny,_ snap, _you’re fucking_ , snap, _mistaken_.

Maybe what Gabriel was aiming at was angry sex, to relieve the tension of their fight. Well, Dean’s not in the mood right now, but the chocolates in his system seem to react at the idea, making him harder, if it’s even possible.

 _Fuck_ , snap, _you_ , snap _, I fucking_ , snap, _hate_ , snap, _you!!!_

Dean feels his climax coming, anger fueling the pleasure, and he has to slow down, to Meg’s dismay. A disappointed mewl escapes her throat and he huffs, trying to breathe through his nose to keep from coming.

“Come on, don’t stop just now. She was almost there,” Gabriel goes on.

And he looks like he feels a bit guilty but can’t really stop himself. Dean doesn’t give a shit. Why doesn’t he shut his fucking mouth?

_If you can hear me right now I’m gonna kill you as soon as we’re done here. I swear to God I’ll fucking stab you in the face!!_

He tries not to think about what it would be like to slam Gabriel against a wall and fuck him raw just to make him pay for this as he starts pumping harder again. He has to bite on his lower lip, hard, to keep himself from coming. He tastes blood, but keeps going, spitting insults at Gabriel in his head.

Thankfully Meg comes not long after. She throws her head back, panting hard, her muscles clenching around Dean’s length, making him see stars. When she’s done, Dean stops, thinking they’re done. Maybe they’ll play with him again, but Meg should be fine, now.

“Meg, ride him.”

Fuck. Dean closes his eyes again. He can’t do this. He just wants to stand up and leave. Fear prevents him from acting on the thought. Instead, he pulls out of Meg, and rolls on his back.

“Dean. Eyes on me,” Gabriel orders.

Dean does as he’s told, only because he has to. He tries to think about why he’s here, why he’s doing this. He can’t remember. He’s too pissed. Alastair is smiling like he’s very much enjoying himself, though, so that’s a good thing. The other demons behind Dean are silent, too. There’s only the noise of flesh on flesh coming from Dean’s upper right. One of the demons he doesn’t know, enjoying the show, too.

Meg removes the condom from his dick, making him hiss, and replaces it with another one before sinking on his length. The action alone is like a punch to the gut, sending a burst of pleasure up his spine. He bites on his lower lip again as she starts moving. He’s not going to hold on for long. He knows it. Gabriel knows it, too. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing. If Dean disobeys in front of the demons, he’s scared Alastair will make Gabriel punish him. The panic at the thought is the only thing holding Dean’s climax back, now.

But like the stupid smartass that he is, he doesn’t say anything. Just to spite Gabriel. Just because it’s the only thing he can do to rebel against Gabriel’s little nervous breakdown, or whatever that is that’s happening.

His hands shoot up, grabbing on Meg’s thighs, urging her silently to go slower. She widens her eyes at him, as if to say, sorry, Pal, but what do you want me to do? So she keeps going, and he keeps holding everything back.

He groans when she comes again, the orgasm inside him trying to unfurl, to burst. He can’t let it happen. His brow furrows as he keeps staring at Gabriel, pleading silently to him. _Fucking stop this right now or I swear to God I’ll—_

“Alright, stop,” Gabriel says.

Meg stops moving. Dean keeps a tight grip on her, holding his breath for fear the slightest of movement will make him come.

“You want to come, Dean?”

Dean grits his teeth again, taking a breath before opening his mouth. “Yes, Master.” And he sounds so desperate he wants to slap himself.

“Then what do we say?”

Is he serious? Is he fucking serious? Dean’s brain comes to a stop, suddenly. That’s it for him. He can’t do this anymore. And he can’t open his mouth, because there’s a _fuck you_ on the tip of his tongue and he knows it’s going to escape him if he does. Instead, he looks away, looks up at the ceiling and just _breathes_.

“Gabriel,” Castiel finally says. Thank fuck! “You’re very, uh… controlling, tonight. Doesn’t look like you.”

“Sometimes it’s good to let out a little steam, Brother,” Gabriel answers. “Maybe you should try it, from time to time.” Which makes Alastair and Crowley smile harder.

Dean doesn’t know what’s happening to him, but he’s pretty sure something broke in Gabriel’s brain. It’s probably the stress of everything. But one thing’s for sure, it’s that Dean doesn’t like what it makes the angel do and say.

“And Dean,” Gabriel adds, “if you’re not going to ask properly then I’m afraid you won’t get to come tonight.”

_Fuck you, fucking fuck you, you fucking fuck, fuck your fucking species and your fucking stupid kink and fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!!!_

Dean holds his tongue. Gabriel gestures to Meg to get off him, and she does, carefully. As she removes the condom from Dean’s dick and throws it on the side, Dean sits up. Their eyes meet. She seems as confused as Dean. And just as pissed. They kneel together, side to side, Dean’s dick standing proudly between his legs. The crown of it is so full of blood it’s almost purple now. Shit, it fucking hurts. It feels like just a little gush of wind on it would make him come. Fuck, he feels like crying, now. He just wants this evening to be over.

Alastair sighs. “You were right, he’s not as wild as his reputation made him to be…” Gabriel hums. “He’s boring. I want to see what the Girl is capable of.”

Meg doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch. She’s too good a slave for this. But Dean knows her. He knows she’ll do it, because right now she’s stuck, but she’ll hate Gabriel for it. She’ll probably hate Cas, too. Maybe she’ll hate Dean. But she’ll do it without protesting. Dean’s half sure she’ll do it just to make them even, after what happened at Lucifer’s all those months ago, when Dean let Lucifer do unspeakable thing to him so he wouldn’t do them to her.

“Alright,” Gabriel says. Meg still doesn’t react. But Dean heard her little disdainful huff. “I have a great variety of toys—“

“No toys,” Alastair interrupts. “You,” he points at one of the demons.

The guy smiles like it’s his birthday, and stands up. For the first time since the night began, Gabriel seems to lose a bit of his confidence. But he quickly regains his composure.

“Dean,” he snaps, indicating the ground beside him.

Dean stands up, and goes to kneel next to his chair. He doesn’t want to break down in front of the demons, and in front of Meg, especially since she’s the one going through the shit now, so he tries to fill his mind, replace the fear with something else. _Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you_ , he starts to sing in his head, as he tries to project the thoughts toward Gabriel.

Dean’s sure Gabriel can hear him, judging by the way he twists his mouth and glances down at him. Dean tries to look as innocent as he can, and keep singing in his head. _You’re so fucking dead to me, I fucking hate you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you_.

Meanwhile, the demon stripped, and he’s maneuvering Meg so she’s on all fours, head bowed down. Dean can’t look. He stares at his knees instead, holding onto his wrist behind his back to keep from jumping the guy. Meg is trying not to cry, Dean can hear it. His anger turns into fear as he hears the demon starts pounding into her fast.

“That’s more like it,” Alastair whispers.

Dean’s stopped singing, now. His mind is blank, filled only with the noises of pain and effort Meg is making. He’s feeling light-headed and he wants to throw up. He can’t focus on the feeling for too long, though, because Gabriel grabs a handful of his hair and drags him between his legs.

Dean looks up at him, aghast. That’s right, he said ‘aghast’. Because that’s the only word that can convey what he feels as he realizes Gabriel wants him to _suck his dick_. Now. In front of Cas. In front of the demons. In front of Meg. But Gabriel isn’t looking down on him. He’s watching Meg and the demon as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

So Dean starts working on his belt, and on the buttons of the angel’s slacks, hoping Gabriel will stop him, tell him he misunderstood. But Gabriel doesn’t move. _What the fuck are you doing?_ Dean projects toward the angel, _you’ve lost your fucking mind!!_

Once the pants are open, Dean hesitates. Can he do this? In front of an audience, nonetheless? He doesn’t know, he’s not sure he can, and his heart starts pounding in his chest. _Please, tell me to stop. Don’t make me do this, not now, I’m not ready. Please, Gabriel._

Alastair side-eyes him, so he moves again, the tip of his fingers sliding in the waistband of Gabriel’s underwear. Fuck, he’s going to have a panic attack, now of all times. Shit. He can’t do this. _If I choke on your dick and die because I’m panicking, I’ll come back to haunt your ass!!_ He pulls on the underwear, pushing them down. Gabriel’s dick pops free, already hard, leaking slightly at the tip.

The angel huffs, wriggling on his seat. Dean knows what that means. He’s uncomfortable, because he hates taking off his clothes. He hates being naked. Or at least he hates being naked in front of people. Is this a gesture of good will? Shit, angels have a weird way to show their support!

 _This is so not okay_ , Dean keeps thinking at Gabriel, _it’s so friggin’ wrong I don’t even have words for it!!_ He takes Gabriel’s length in hands, and brings his face close. He still smells the same. Like skin, and maybe a bit of sweat, a note of something stronger underneath, something that’s typically Gabriel _. You’re gonna have three very pissed humans on your ass when all this is over!_ Here we go, then. No choice left.

Dean decides to take things slow. He bends over, carefully, and licks a stripe up Gabriel’s length. Okay, not bad. Not as terrible as he thought. And Gabriel still tastes the same. _Fuck. Fuck you for making me do this!_ He takes Gabriel’s dick in mouth, and starts bobbing his head. Might as well get going, or he’ll never see the end of it.

“Slow down,” Gabriel breathes, “hands behind your back.”

_Fuck. You. Very. Much._

“Good…”

 _You’d deserve it if I bit your fucking dick off, you fucking prick!_ Shit, he forgot how sweet Gabriel tasted. How can sucking a dick feel that good? Probably the chocolate, Dean thinks. He keeps moving his head, slow, his tongue twisting around the tip every time he reaches it, then going down again, almost against his will. But, God! Does it feel good. He sucks harder, swallowing every little drop of pre-cum he can milk out of Gabriel. Suddenly there’s a hand in his hair, pulling a little, helping him move, and he realizes he’s humming. Fuck _. I didn’t mean to do that_ , he thinks again. But even though he tries to stop himself, he can’t. He should be scared, should be almost crying by now, should feel his limbs shake and his heart hammer against his chest, but he doesn’t.

 _Would you look at that_ , he muses. _A magic anti-stress dick_.

There’s a strangled laugh coming from Gabriel, and he passes it off as a moan at the last second. So he really is listening to Dean, then. _Is it Grace?_ He can feel it. Feel its quiet buzzing under Gabriel’s skin. _Are you fucking Gracing me with your dick so I won’t panic?_ Gabriel hums in pleasure. Dean takes that as a ‘yes’. _Fuck you!_ But Dean can’t find it in himself to be mad anymore. His whole world is reduced to what’s in his mouth, his only goal now being to make Gabriel come so hard he can’t walk straight for a week.

Shit, he wants Gabriel to fuck his throat, make him gag on his dick until Dean runs out of air and almost faint from it. He tries to take more into his mouth, relaxing his throat, but Gabriel holds his head back, hand still in his hair. Dean feels the pull on his scalp right down to his core. His dick jumps at the sensation and he moans around Gabriel’s length. Fuck, it’s so good. He tries to go further down again, and Gabriel allows him, bit by bit, still holding him back by his hair. Sometimes, Dean goes much further than he can just to have the angel pull him back by his hair. Shit, he needs to try and have some actually consensual sex with those chocolates and that Grace-induced relaxation state he’s in. He’s never been able to take a dick this far up his throat before, but now he’s almost all the way down.

 _Fuck, I hate you right now but I love your dick_. He goes down again, aiming for the full deep throat thing. He relaxes his muscles, slowly, until his nose touches skin and hairs. _Want to taste you_ , he thinks again. And if it’s possible to actually whine and moan in thoughts, he thinks he just did. _Fucking come in my throat, already!_ He swallows around Gabriel’s length. There’s nothing around him, anymore. No sound, no one, just Gabriel and his hot girth, that he feels swelling inside his mouth. _Yes, that’s it, just fucking paint my throat with your come!_ Who the fuck says that? Shit. He must be really, really high, right now. But it’s so good. So, so, good he almost comes from the noise Gabriel makes as his orgasm hits him, from how tight he’s holding onto Dean’s hair as he shoots his load and Dean swallows all of it, until the angel has nothing else to give.

As soon as Dean pulls away and opens his eyes again, Gabriel’s dick making a wet noise as it pops out of his mouth, all the sounds in the room come crashing in. The demons are whispering among them again, and Meg is quietly panting behind him, but there’s nothing else to hear. Gabriel smooths the hair on the back on Dean’s head, and tucks himself in, zipping his pants up.

Blinking, and feeling like he’s getting down from a very strange LSD trip, Dean shuffles on his knees and faces the pile of pillows again. The demon who was fucking Meg is sitting down on the couch again, and Meg is kneeling, hands in her back and head bowed. She cried. There’re still tears drying on her cheeks. It sends Dean crashing right back to planet earth, making him almost forget how horny he is.

When Alastair opens his mouth to speak again, Dean closes his eyes, and he prays, honest-to-God prays, for this night to end quickly.

 

 **_____________**  

 

The demons got tired of Meg and Dean both pretty quickly, luckily for them. They had to fuck again, and Gabriel tried to keep things alive and safe by making them use toys. Now the demons are all gone, except for Alastair, who’s standing next to the sofa and talking with Gabriel. Meg and Dean are still kneeling, still naked. Dean wants to sleep. He’s exhausted.

“I think we’ll get along well, Gabriel,” Alastair is saying. “I’ll send for you so we can discuss what you want to discuss in a more private manner.”

“Very well,” Gabriel answers. “Thank you for your time.”

Gabriel accompanies him to the door, Castiel following a few steps behind like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. As soon as he hears the door closing, Dean grabs his tunic, and puts it on, turning to Meg. She’s crying silently, looking at a random spot on the floor.

“Hey,” Dean breathes, coming close to her. He tries to touch her cheek but she turns her head. Sighing, he looks around. When he finds her tunic, he stands up, and helps her put it on. “Come on,” he says, pulling her up.

She goes with it, letting him carry almost all of her weight.

“Dean…” Gabriel starts.

And here it goes again, the same supplicant, apologizing tone. Dean can’t stand it. He can’t stand the mere sight of Gabriel at the moment. “Shut up! You shut your mouth,” Dean almost growls. “You have nothing to say to us tonight, okay? Just leave us alone!”

All he wants to do is crawl into bed and cry himself to sleep, but Meg needs him. So he carries her to the bathroom, helps her clean up and put on one of Gabriel’s under shirt, and tucks her into bed, closing the bedroom curtains before sliding under the comforter with her. Once there, he pulls her into his arms.

He kisses her head. “Do you need something to eat? Or drink?” She shakes her head ‘no’. “Anything else? D’you wanna talk about it?”

She shrugs. “I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I don’t usually react that way. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” She’s crying again, trying to muffle her sobs.

“Maybe I’m really, really bad in bed,” he teases.

She huffs a sobbing laugh. “No. You were the good part of the evening, actually.”

He smiles. “You’re allowed to feel bad about… all that weird sex stuff, you know.”

“It’s not that…”

She’s silent for a long minute. The quiet of the room is only interrupted by Castiel and Gabriel’s angry muffled whispers in the living room. Dean hopes Cas is tearing Gabriel a new one.

“I chose to be here,” she says. “I… I insisted on coming even when you told me it was dangerous and fucked up and… when he… when the demon…” she stops, overwhelmed again. She takes the time to swallow her tears before she goes on. “I’m just so mad at myself for getting into that situation, and I feel guilty to feel that way because the only reason I came was to help you.” She hides her face in his chest. “Now all I want to do is go back home.”

“You can still do that.”

“We just have less than two weeks left here, Dean. I can’t do that. Not now. I think I’m onto something…”

“You’ll tell me about it tomorrow, okay? We need to sleep.”

He holds her close, and closes his eyes. He’s so tired. Physically, mentally. He wants to go back to his own apartment, to be alone for a while. And fuck, he’s horny, too. Friggin’ chocolates! Just two weeks, like she said. Two weeks and they’ll be good. And if by then they can’t find anything on Alastair, then Dean will let Gabriel sort this out himself. He can’t do this anymore. He needs some long, nice vacations. He should take Meg with him. Go to the beach. He’s never seen the beach before.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“What was that about? With Gabriel?”

He opens his eyes again, confused. “What? The blowjob?”

She gives him a bitch face. Even through the tears, she manages to make him feel uncomfortable. “What do you think?”

“It’s nothing,” he answers. “He had to look the part, I guess.”

“Did you sleep together? Outside the job, I mean. Be honest, Dean.”

He sighs. “No. Of course not. Just thinking about it, I can’t…” he shivers.

“And you agreed to let him use you as part of the role you’re playing?” Avoiding her eyes, he shakes his head. “So he just took the initiative, just like that.” She wipes her eyes, slowly. “Dean, do you really think he can handle it? You, you’re tougher than I thought, but him…”

“Please, Meg, not now…”

“The way he behaved tonight it wasn’t acting tough, Dean, he was jealous.”

Dean huffs. “Jealous of what?” She stares at him until he gets what she means. “Us? You and me? No.”

“Dean, come on. I know you’re blinded by love, but seriously. You can’t really be that thick.”

“I’m not—“ He huffs again. “I’m not _blinded_ by anything. And if he’s jealous, it’s his problem, not mine.” He closes his eyes again. “We had a fight. When you left yesterday morning. Things were said… I guess he’s just pissed. I know I am.”

Humming, she sighs. “Just… be careful, okay? What he did tonight was dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll give him an earful tomorrow, alright? Let’s sleep, now.”

“Okay,” she breathes.

And by the way she’s talking, she’s already half-way gone. He settles down again properly, and closes his eyes, trying to ignore his chocolate-induced boner. This is insane. Maybe Gabriel’s jealous, but why should Dean care? He tries not to acknowledge the little twinge of satisfaction he feels at the thought. Tonight was eventful. He needs to rest.

Sleep doesn’t come as fast as he’d have liked. He’s haunted by thoughts of the others, back at Gabriel’s mansion. By thoughts of Sam. He should call him, he thinks. Christ, he’s been away for a week, and only thinks about Sam now. What kind of brother is he, that he can forget so easily?

He tosses and turns, the effects of the chocolate still coursing through his body, making him horny and annoyed and feeling strangely guilty. He’ll call Sam, he decides. He will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Rape/Non-con, Non-con voyeurism, Dub-con (verging on non-con) BJ between the main characters
> 
> If I forget anything, let me know!
> 
> In other news, I'm taking a break from posting, because I've been talking with my beta about plot points and some need a lot of research, which means I need time, which is something I unfortunately don't have at the moment. So it means no chapter for a little while, but hopefully things will go way faster once I come back to posting! I'll probably be two or three chapters ahead (chapter 9 is already done but needs some additions and tweaking here and there, so I'm keeping it for later)!
> 
> If you liked the chapter, or the story (if you're only discovering it), please leave a comment! Those mean a lot to me, and they keep me fuelled! Thank you for your patience, and for sticking with me :) See you soon!


	9. The Best Is Yet to Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that was a very long hiatus. I actually didn't see those months pass, because I was rather busy, also having an existential crisis, and those take a lot of your time, I assure you. But I am back! Chapters should come fairly regularly, I want to post once a month, if possible (and I told my beta to kick my ass if I let myself go, so it's almost a sure thing)
> 
> A word, though, to people who actually came to me - on here or tumblr- to ask where I was or when I was going to update: I, like you, read fics, and so I understand your distress. It kind of bothered me a little that I got a message from you because you wanted a chapter when I never heard of you before, which means you never once commented on the fic and... yeah. Some days I truly feel like nobody reads the fic anymore since I don't get any feedback, and although I understand your impatience completely, it would be very nice to get a word from you from time to time. Helps with the motivation and everything, you know? I'm not mad so don't take this the wrong way, just saying, the fandom has a big problem with feedback these days, so it's always nice to let the authors know you liked their works, and why.  
> Not to worry, though, I won't keep the chapter hostage because I don't get feedback. I really want to finish this fic! 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy, read the tags, and also see the end of chapter for notes on trigger warnings inside the chapter. Thanks for being here, still, even after I took an unexpected vacation to reflect on my life choice and write some destiel. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Sam?”

Sam snorts awake, his neck sending a burst of pain down his spine as he straightens up to blink sleepily at Jess. She’s standing in the doorway of Gabriel’s study, still wearing her cute little pajamas, hair disheveled and looking slightly pissed. He takes a look around. He fell asleep at Gabriel’s desk again, huh?

“Hey,” he answers softly, trying for an appeasing smile.

She doesn’t fall for it. “You said you’d stop.”

“Jess…”

“No, Sam, you promised you’d stop looking for her. And here you are. Again.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Sighing, Sam stands up, his ass tingling from staying in his seat all night long. He grimaces slightly, stretching his arms before walking up to her. “I’m sorry,” he breathes against her the top of her head as he takes her in his arms. “But I’m pretty sure I’m close to finding her.”

She huffs, pushing him away. “She’s a bitch! She outed Dean to the world! Who cares what happened to her?!”

Here she goes again. Sam refrains from rolling his eyes. They’ve had this discussion a hundred times during the short amount of days she’s known about his search for Ruby. But he’s convinced, he’s sure of himself. This is important. He never neglects his instinct. So why should he do it now?

“I do! I’m pretty sure it has something to do with that whole Lucifer thing! Don’t you want to help Gabriel? To help Dean?”

“That’s not the point, Sam.”

“Of course it is! It’s exactly the point! You ever stopped to think, why Dean? He’s not that important. Why would she choose to out him? To go after Gabriel?”

“I don’t care,” she hisses, turning around.

Without another word, she storms out, slamming the door shut behind her. Sam stays frozen in place for a few seconds, still a bit drowsy with sleep.

“Jess, wait!” He runs out, hurtling down the stairs to catch up with her. She doesn’t turn around when she hears him. “It _is_ important! And I don’t understand how you can think that I care about her more than you!” He stops, out of breath, inhaling before going again, “Jess!”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she turns around. “You spend all your days and nights looking for her, and you don’t understand? That’s rich, Sam.”

“Come on, hear me out,” he pleads, “Ruby could have chosen anybody. She chose Dean. Aren’t you curious to know why?”

“Because you were there! She had you, you were convenient! Why can’t you see that?”

“No,” he bursts, frustrated. “Okay, I was stupid trusting her, I know! I’m the first one to admit it!” She scoffs. “It’s true, Jess! But I also think she was onto something. And all of a sudden she disappears? It doesn’t strike you as odd, at least? Like someone didn’t want her to go any further than she already had!”

“Whatever,” Jess says, throwing her arms in the air and stomping toward the kitchen.

“They took her out of the game,” Sam goes on, going after her, “because what she found out about Dean had a bit of truth in it. So what if she found something related to Lucifer?”

“I don’t care!!”

She takes a turn into the slaves’ quarters.

“Jess!”

Sam walks into the kitchen, and bumps into her, where she’s standing, frozen, in front of Bobby, Victor, Mrs. Herbert, Lisa, Charlie and Gilda. He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“No, please,” Victor deadpans, “keep going. We’ll pretend we can’t hear you shout yourself hoarse at six thirty in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry,” Sam lets out, deflating.

There’s a moment of silence where nobody moves. Jess sighs, and goes straight for the kettle.

“So that’s what you were doing up there,” Bobby finally says. “You’re looking for that journalist.”

Sam nods, a bit sheepish.

“And you didn’t think it was important information to share?”

What is Bobby saying? Sam blinks in surprise. “You… you think it’s important?”

“Do I think it’s important?” Bobby snorts, raising an eyebrow at him. “Boy, anything that could bring things back to normal is important. Tell us what you have.”

“Hum…” Sam glances toward Jess. She ignores him, pouring herself some tea. He steps further inside the room. “Not much, if I’m honest. Just cold trails… I’m still trying to figure out where Ruby’s been seen last.”

Victor straightens up. “What about that journal that published her?”

“I don’t think they’re worth it,” Sam says, shaking his head. “They’re not official, they don’t even have an office. It’s all done on the down low.”

“I’d say it’s worth a shot, anyway,” Bobby answers. “You never know what we might find.”

Sam hesitates. “We?”

“You probably don't know this, but Victor and I've been hunting for Castiel for years, now,” Bobby says. “There’s no way I’m letting you work alone on this if I can help. And, Hell, I miss it!”

“And I’m coming with,” Victor adds.

Jess, who kept quiet until now, finally opens her mouth. “Are you serious?”

“Jess,” Charlie tries, softly. “It could be important.”

Jess shakes her head. “Can’t we leave it alone and just live our life, already?” She seem to hear how whiney she sounds and takes a breath before going on, “We’re free, we have other things to think about!”

“As long as Master Ga…” Charlie starts. She stops, takes a breath. “As long as Gabriel is gone, we’re not going to make it on our own. Can’t you see that?”

Gilda nods. “Yeah. We need him here. And he needs to get his brother out of prison before he can focus on us again. So if finding that journalist can help bring him home…” she trails off.

Charlie wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses the top of her head. Jessica shakes her head like she can’t believe what she’s hearing, and she gives Sam a blank look. “And you’re okay with that? You’ll let them put themselves in danger to help you?”

Nothing seems to diffuse her anger. Sam runs a hand on his face. “Please, Jess…”

“No, Sam! You’re so caught up in your little world, trying to find your… your _whore_ that you’re willing to—“

“Damn it, Jess, that’s not what I’m doing and you know it,” Sam blows. “You know Lucifer killed Raphael, you know he killed the slaves that were here before you!” He ignores the look of sadness on Bobby’s face. “You know that Gabriel won’t stop until Michael is free because he feels guilty! And you know that Dean has to sell his ass to make it happen, so if finding Ruby is the solution to help Dean get free of all that crap, then you know I’ll do whatever it takes to find her!”

“Come on, guys,” Charlie says, looking between them both.

“Right,” Jess snorts, ignoring her. “And as soon as this is over you and Dean will go back to your life and you’ll forget about us!”

She’s all red in the face, eyes glazing with fury. Sam has to take a moment to really understand what she’s saying. “You don’t really mean that,” he says, astonished.

“I know it’s what’s going to happen,” she answers, straightening up. “I thought I could handle it, as long as we had a bit of time together, but really,” there’s a small sob in the hitch of her breath, “if you’re going to waste our time together on _her_ , I don’t see why I should keep trying when you’re obviously not that into me.”

She pushes Charlie away, and, with her chin held high, walks toward the exit. Toward Sam.

“Jess,” he breathes when she passes him.

She doesn’t stop.

\--------------------------------------

“Wake up, Princess,” Meg says right in Dean’s ear, shaking him hard.

“Fuck you…” he mumbles.

Fuck, he must’ve slept barely four hours. He hasn’t had that less sleep in a while. What the fuck does she want?

“Come on, it’s breakfast time. If you don’t get up I’ll eat all the pancakes.”

Pancakes? Dean opens an eye at that, suddenly interested. “Yeah, comin’…” He gets up, not even bothering to put on a shirt or his tunic, and goes straight to the balcony where Castiel and Gabriel are already seated, and where Meg has joined them. She’s still wearing Gabriel’s shirt, and a pair of Dean’s boxer shorts.

Groggy, he looks around, but doesn’t spot any pancakes. Did she eat everything already?

“Where are the pancakes?”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him. “What pancakes?”

“Oops,” Meg laughs.

Dean huffs. “You lying bitch.”

“Good morning to you, too, Sunshine,” she answers, taking a forkful of bacon in her mouth.

He takes a seat between her and Gabriel, and pours himself a glass of orange juice. Castiel doesn’t speak. He’s reading the paper, looking all gloomy, sometimes throwing angry glances at Gabriel.

“So,” Dean says, once he served himself some eggs and bacon, “care to tell the class why you decided to turn into a huge jerk last night?”

He stops and stares at Gabriel, who’s looking at his plate with fake interest, before looking up and blinking at Dean. Dean keeps smiling despite the anger he feels resurfacing, and he waits. Even Cas has stopped reading and is looking at his brother like Gabriel’s answer is going to determine the rest of his life.

“I thought that was what Alastair wanted to see,” Gabriel answers, finally giving up his façade under the pressure of their stares. “I just—“

“You just thought it was okay and then you lost control of the situation,” Dean finishes. “You’re sorry, you won’t do it again, you promise, you never meant for it to go that far, please, _forgive me, Dean, I’m so sorry_. Did I forget something?”

“Well, I also owe Meg an apology this time…”

 “Yeah, well, apology not accepted,” Meg sighs. “Next time take out your temper on people who actually deserve it. I’m here to help and you throw me to the wolves without even asking me first.”

Dean wants to agree, to yell at Gabriel some more, but suddenly the effects of last night chocolate hits him again, and he finds himself having to hide his sudden hard-on. Shit. How come it’s still affecting him? It’s been hours.

“I understand,” Gabriel says.

Dean stares at his lips, and he’s almost hypnotized by them. The way Gabriel licks them, embarrassed. The way he twists his mouth while he searches for something more to say to break the silence. God! What Dean wouldn’t give to have them wrapped around his dick, right now.

Gabriel turns his head toward him so suddenly that Dean almost jumps. Fuck. Did he broadcast his thoughts again?

“I thought you were mad at me,” Gabriel says.

So, yes. Dean projected his thoughts again. Shit. “I _am_ mad at you! Shut up!”

There’s a blush spreading on his face, up to his ears, and Meg gives him a once-over. “Oh. Looks like little Deano has a big problem.”

And now everyone’s looking at his lap. He hides his crotch behind his hands, furious. “It’s the damn chocolate, okay? Will you quit looking at my junk!”

Gabriel frowns. “Did you eat more than one again?”

“You’re the one asking me that?”

“No,” Meg comes in. “It’s not made out of chemicals, it's _magic_. So it didn’t just get out of his system.” She chews on a piece of bacon, thoughtful. “I guess you need to orgasm a few times to get rid of the effects.”

“Fuck,” Dean lets out. They’re still all looking at him. He stares back, half angry, half expectant, before bursting out, “What are you waiting for? Just… go back to your room!”

He’s not going to go jerk off while they’re all sitting here having their breakfast like everything’s normal, for fuck’s sake! Arousal gets stronger with every minute that passes. He doesn’t know for how long he’s gonna hold on. He wants to fuck, and it’s worse than the night before. Probably because he waited too long, or slept on it.

Meg keeps chewing, unimpressed. “Can I finish my breakfast, first?”

“Meg!”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs. “Come on,” she tells Cas as she stands up.

As soon as they’re gone, Dean goes back inside. Can he make it to the shower? He thinks he can make it to the shower. But he stopped for too long, and Gabriel caught up with him.

“Do you need anything, Dean?”

Still that contrite look, the apology in his voice… Dean wants to punch him. Or plow his ass.

“Fuck off,” Dean growls, going for the bathroom again.

He’s getting used to those chocolates, now, despite everything, and he has enough decency left to stop from shoving his underwear down and jerking himself off right where he is, in the middle of the living room.

Unfortunately for him, Gabriel follows. “I just—“

“You know what?” Dean turns around, abruptly as he interrupts the angel. “This is all your fault!”

Gabriel holds his gaze, but Dean sees him balance his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “I know,” he breathes.

“You acted like an ass and now I’m… I’m overdosing!”

“I know, Dean, I’m sorry…”

“Yeah, well, then prove it,” Dean goes on, getting rid of his boxers. He’s too horny to know what he’s doing anymore, and trips on his feet a little. Once naked, he slams his fists on his hips, under Gabriel’s surprised gaze, and he stares at the angel with defiance. “Get me off,” he orders.

Gabriel doesn’t answer. For a moment, he looks like a full-size statue, frozen in the middle of the room. Dean would start to feel ridiculous if he wasn’t as horny as he is now. His dick twitches, like a physical sign of his impatience, painfully hard and already leaking.

“Come on,” he says again, “ain’t got all day.”

“Dean…” Gabriel answers, almost pleading.

It occurs to Dean when he sees the face the angel’s pulling that it’s not a good idea. It’s the opposite of a good idea. But it settled in his mind, now, making his blood boil. He has to have Gabriel’s mouth on him.

“You made me blow you in front of everyone! In front of Meg!”

A pause. Then Gabriel blinks. “I know,” he sighs.

Slowly, he takes a few steps toward Dean, until he’s as close as he dares be. And he kneels down. Dean’s heart is about to leap out of his chest.

Gabriel rests his forehead on Dean’s hip, closing his eyes. Despite his strong desire, Dean starts to feel bad. He’s about to tell Gabriel to stop, that it’s okay, it’s fine, he’ll manage on his own, but the angel’s moving again, too soon for Dean to say anything, breath ghosting over the tip of Dean’s dick. His tongue darts out, tasting the skin, before he takes Dean in his mouth effortlessly. Dean feels his length slide past Gabriel’s lips, all the way until he hits the back of Gabriel’s throat. The angel doesn’t gag. Perks of inhabiting a vessel, Dean figures in a haze of lust and pleasure.

Gabriel’s hands are on the back of Dean’s thighs, urging him to move his hips. To fuck the angel’s mouth. _Shit_. Dean doesn’t need the encouragement. He starts moving his hips in earnest, hands flying up to Gabriel’s head. Humming, the angel squeezes the meat of his thighs. Sparks fly behind Dean’s eyelid, as Gabriel sucks harder. Dean’s orgasm hits so fast he barely has time to utter a small “Gabe, I’m—“ before he’s coming in the angel’s mouth. Gabriel keeps going, swallowing everything.

“Ah! Please, don’t stop,” Dean breathes at the first sign showing that Gabriel is about to pull away.

Gabriel still pulls back a little, tongue playing with Dean’s still hardened flesh. The arousal is still here, still pulsing under Dean’s skin in time with the beating of his heart. It doesn’t show sign of stopping any time soon.

Humming, Gabriel rolls his tongue around the tip of Dean’s dick, eyes fluttering open as he looks up at Dean, gaze questioning.

“Bed,” Dean lets out.

He wants to fuck. He wants to get rid of the effects of the chocolate, as soon as possible. And as much as he likes the sight of Gabriel on his knees, he knows the situation isn’t ideal. Dean is angry, for one thing. Gabriel fucked him over, and not in the good sense. It brings to the surface all of Dean’s old anger and residual resentment. Everything Gabriel did to him, or failed to do comes crashing back along with the memory of their fight, making him push Gabriel onto the bed as they enter the bedroom a bit harder than he intended. It makes something boil in his blood under all the lust, makes him almost tear Gabriel’s shirt in half.

“Get naked,” he growls, frustrated. “Now!”

He looks around, frantic, looking for lube, and barely hears the snap of Gabriel’s fingers. When he finds the small bottle on the floor next to the bed and looks back at the angel, his clothes have disappeared. Dean doesn’t lose time. After slicking Gabriel up, he throws the bottle away, gesturing to Gabriel to lie down properly, and he straddles the angel’s hips.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Gabriel tries.

He’s hesitant, looking almost shy. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to be here. But Dean’s anger is stronger than his conscience.

“Shut up,” he answers, taking Gabriel’s dick in hand from behind and adjusting the tip against his hole.

He pushes down, slowly, letting Gabriel’s length breach his opening, inch by inch. It takes a solid minute for Gabriel’s dick to go all the way in, a blessed minute of silence and quiet sighs, Gabriel being too occupied to say anything. He doesn’t move, doesn’t buck his hips. His hands stay fisted in the sheets at his sides, twitching slightly from time to time like he wants to hold on to Dean but doesn’t dare to try.

“You’re not using protection,” Gabriel comments as Dean stops, trying to adjust to the feeling of fullness and the scorching heat of Gabriel’s flesh.

“Like it’d do me any good,” he breathes back. “You never used one before, so using one now wouldn’t make any difference.”

It comes out angry. It reminds Dean that Gabriel only cared for himself in the past. He never stopped to think that maybe he could give Dean some angelic STD that he wouldn’t be able to cure afterwards, or some shit. So why would he act so caring now, huh? Why would he pretend to care so much about Dean?

Gabriel nods, barely, and adverts Dean’s eyes. He needs Dean for his little plan to work, Dean thinks. That’s the reason why.

Suddenly furious, he lifts himself up and snaps his ass down. Gabriel lets out a huge gulp of air, eyes closing as he tilts his head back. After that, Dean releases all control. He fucks himself on Gabriel, riding him like the angel is just a very warm dildo. He comes, hard, shooting loads of white on Gabriel’s stomach. His strength leaves him then, like all his energy has been milked out of him, even though the chocolate is still affecting him slightly. Gabriel seems to sense it, and he turns them over until Dean’s on his back and he’s on top, and he pounds on Dean’s prostate mercilessly. Dean comes again not long after, a noiseless scream leaving his mouth. Gabriel’s orgasm hits too, as Dean clamps around his length.

He keeps bucking his hips lazily, making pleasure run through Dean in little bursts. A few seconds pass in silence when he finally stops, Dean’s blood pumping in his ears the only thing he can hear. Gabriel searches his eyes for a moment, until Dean relents and finally looks at him. The effects of the chocolate are gone. All that’s left in Dean is cold anger.

Gabriel leans over, aiming for a kiss. Dean turns his head to avoid it.

Time seems to freeze for a second, and Gabriel huffs. He pulls away, pulling out of Dean, and kneels between Dean’s legs, frowning. Dean waits for the usual apology, for the slightly whispered “Dean…” pleading and weak. But nothing comes.

Gabriel seeks his eyes again, frowning. When Dean refuses to look at him again, he huffs, and shakes his head.

He slides off the bed, disappearing into the living room. With a wave of his hand he makes the curtains fall, leaving Dean in the dark.

 

\------------------------------

 

Gabriel stumbles out of the room, feeling his blood pressure rise inside his body. With a tweak of Grace, he wills his vessel to remain calm, and stops in the middle of the living room. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. What does Dean want from him, for Heaven’s sake? He’s just… so confused. If he thought he understood humans before, now he knows he truly doesn’t, and he probably never will. Running a hand through his hair, he sighs. The slight breeze coming through the open door of the balcony, reminds him he’s naked. His skin still tingles with the heat of Dean’s body. Dean’s scent is still in his nose. Gabriel wants him. He wants to go back inside that damn bedroom and hold him in his arms and tell him everything’s going to be fine.

But what would be the point? Dean hates him, that much is clear. And Gabriel fucked up, again. Not like he didn’t know it would happen, sooner or later, anyway. That’s why he pushed Dean the night before. Because he knew, and knows, that what they once had will never come back.

And now he’s angry. Angry that Dean outright rejected him. He’s the one who volunteered to come here! Why should everything be Gabriel’s fault?

He huffs again, closing his eyes. With a thought, he covers himself with clothes again, and shakes the anger away. He doesn’t care, he decides. From now on, he won’t care about Dean anymore. When he does, it always end up hurting him, so he’ll stop. Alastair is Gabriel’s goal, and Dean was a distraction.

Not anymore. Not ever again.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Dean gets out of the shower fifteen minutes later, lust-free and feeling refreshed. Although now there’s a pang of guilt nagging in the back of his head as well. He pushes the feeling aside when he see that Meg and Cas are back. Everyone’s outside, and there’s a single plate of pancakes waiting for Dean in front of an empty sit. An empty sit, next to Gabriel. Of fucking course.

Meg looks up at him with a knowing smile on her face when she hears him coming, but her smile falters as she looks between Dean and Gabriel, and see the expressions on their faces. She nudges Dean in the arm when he sits between her and the angel.

“Something wrong?”

“Shut up,” he growls, digging into the plate of pancakes.

“Alright, Mister Grumpy Face.” She steals a pancake from his plate. “Then you won’t know what Cassie and I uncovered.”

Cas glares at her when he hears the nickname. Dean side-eyes her. “You found something?”

She nods. “I’m a professional, Dean. Of course I found something.”

“I’m not sure it’s much,” Castiel adds, “but it’s something, at least.”

Dean stops chewing, looking at them both. “Spill.”

“Dean, chill,” Meg admonishes. “Getting laid’s supposed to relax you, you know?”

Gabriel shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.

Dean glares at her. “Yeah, well, I’m not like other girls,” he deadpans.

Meg is acting way too happy for Dean’s liking. But the way she’s looking at him makes him understand that he should tone down his anger, or at least try to be companionable while she and Cas are there.

“Okay,” he lets out after losing their intense staring contest. “I’m sorry. Please tell me what you found out.”

Meg winks to acknowledge his gracious defeat, and settles back in her seat. “Well, I told you I had to make friends with one of the slave’s handlers,” she starts, popping a bit of pancakes she stole from Dean into her mouth. “Since everybody hates Cas, it wasn’t easy.” Cas shrugs when she looks at him, and a small smile reaches his eyes like they’re sharing a secret joke. “Anyway,” Meg goes on, “earlier when you were taking care of your little problem,” she eyes his crotch, “I went to check on the guy…”

She lets her sentence hang, and Dean sighs. “And he answered your questions, just like that?”

“Of course not.” She hesitates, but keeps her smile, “I had to suck his dick, but believe me it was worth it.”

“Meg!”

“What?”

 _You’re the one busting my nuts about these things_ , Dean’s about to answer. But the turn of her mouth prevents him, telling him if he dares saying it she’ll go crazy on his ass.

“Go on,” he says instead.

“Right,” she answers, smug. “Well, when I asked about weird stuff he could have heard about, he told me about all these slaves he saw coming and going in the hotel. Not client’s slaves. Hotel slaves. Sex slaves, that they use in the backrooms.”

Gabriel leans forward, suddenly interested. “Untrained?”

Meg nods. “For the most part. Weak, too. Most of them don’t last a month. The guy I talked to says the managers keep them locked up, so the actual staff doesn’t see them much, doesn’t really know about them. But he heard from one of the client’s slaves that those sex slaves were probably all new. Apparently, one of them told this other guy he’d been kidnapped.”

Dean blinks. “I don’t… I’m confused. A guy told you that a mysterious slave told a buddy of his that maybe demons kidnap slaves? How is that _something_?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Meg shrugs.

“The reason we think it’s important,” Castiel says, looking Dean straight in the eyes, “is because it fits with what Gabriel suspected in the first place.”

Dean holds his gaze, thinking. To him, it’s just a shot in the dark, there’s nothing logical about it. Gabriel just thinks the demons have too many slaves. A random guy tells Meg that slaves have been kidnapped and suddenly it’s a fucking revelation.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Sounds a bit far-fetched.”

“Well, we’ll have occasion to find some other clues,” Gabriel answers. Dean can’t help looking his way. “Alastair invited me to have lunch with him. You don’t have to come with me,” he adds, eyeing Dean.

Leaning back in his seat, Dean pushes the plate of pancakes away. Meg takes advantage and takes it, digging in. “I don’t see how. Unless he straight out tells you he’s smuggling stolen slaves.”

“He’s going to introduce me to one of his boys,” Gabriel answers. His tone is getting a bit hard, like he’s annoyed. “One of his wild ones. There’s even a chance he’ll let me spend some time alone with him. I'll probably be able to question him.”

“Then I want to come.”

Gabriel dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “I can handle it.”

“Yeah, Dean,” Meg interrupts as Dean is about to give him an angry retort. “It’ll be good for you to just… I don’t know. Chill. Take care of yourself.”

A burst of anger takes over Dean, like a great wave of heat shooting up to his head. He holds it back, trying not to snap at her. “Right. I’m just gonna go to the spa, maybe get a massage,” he says blankly. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Meg counters.

Dean holds up his hands in defeat. So everybody’s against, him, huh? Alright. He’ll just go with the flow, do what people tell him to do, how difficult is that? He’ll manage. He just has to hold on for another ten days. It’s nothing. And he’ll be out of here, and he’ll be able to leave this whole bunch of crap behind.

 

\----------------------------

 

“I have the little something I promised you,” Alastair says, smiling.

Gabriel is uncomfortable. But he knows he’s close to gaining the demon’s trust. This is his chance, and now that he can’t count on Dean anymore, well… he’s going to have to take what the demon gives him, and expand from it. He plasters a pleasant, surprised smile on his face.

Alastair snaps his finger at one of the Hotel employee who’s waiting near the door. They’re in a part of the Red Room Gabriel hadn’t noticed at first, above the floor, on one of the balconies. The view on the stage is incredible, and there’s no way the people eating below them can see anything that’s happening up here. It’s private, almost cozy.

The employee disappears, and comes back a moment later with a slave in tow. He’s tall, almost as tall as Dean. He’s standing all wrong, but he’s exulting a kind of confidence Gabriel’s only felt from Dean on those first months he bought him. The slave glances toward him, but quickly advert his eyes. His bright, green eyes. Heavens. Gabriel is scared to guess what he’s here for.

“I just bought him,” Alastair says, conversationally. “He reminded me of your pet. He’s wilder, thought. I thought you’d like to try and tame him.”

Gabriel licks his lips. “Yes.” He gives the slave another once-over, and snaps out of it, remembering where he is, and why he’s here. Alastair noticed, if his sly smile is any indication. “Thank you,” Gabriel says.

“Now…” Alastair gives the slave a look, and the boy kneels down next to Gabriel. “Let’s talk business!” Raising his glass of wine, he inclines his head.

Gabriel does the same. “Yes. Specifically, your business with my brother, I’d love to hear wha—“

“Sir,” Val interrupts.

Gabriel turns around, and sees the demon hovering next to the door. He’s frowning slightly. Alastair hums, impatiently. “What is it?”

“There’s a call for you. It’s urgent.”

Are they shitting him? Gabriel tries not to show what he thinks about that ‘interruption’. It could still be a coincidence. After all, only the third time is a pattern. He answers before Alastair can, “Can’t it wait?”

Val gives him an undignified look before pursing his lips. “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Come, now,” Alastair laughs, quietly. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. Like I told you before, I’m a very busy man.”

“I can see that…”

“I’ll make sure to call you as soon as I’m available again,” Alastair goes on like Gabriel never spoke. He stands, “please, keep the boy with you, in the meantime. As a small consolation prize, if you will.”

Gabriel nods, and he watches, sour, as the demons leave him and the slave boy alone. He looks down at him, thoughtful, downing his glass of wine while he tries to think of a solution for this other human being he’s now responsible for. This is not what he was expecting. If he has to take him back to his room… Heavens, he hopes Dean’s not here. The boy mustn’t know what they’re doing.

He clears his throat, and asks, “What’s your name?”

“Jason, Master.”

“Jason…” Okay. He seems polite, not too aggressive, which is good. He doesn’t need another pissed off human on his hand. “Okay, come with me, Jason. I’ll introduce you to my other slave, since I have some free time, now…”

 

\------------------------------

 

Gabriel enters the room carefully.

“Dean?”

Dean’s answer is to violently slam something down, sounds like a pan, on a table. He’s in the room’s kitchen, then. Good. Gabriel can’t believe his luck.

“I expect you to come when I call,” he announces, very pointedly.

He hopes Dean won’t retort something insulting, or storm out wearing sweatpants, of all things. They can’t have this slave they don’t know believe he let his slaves, even if Dean is truly not that anymore, do whatever they want.

He hears the front door closing behind him, signaling that Jason is following him. At least this one knows the basic courtesy. When Dean steps out of the kitchen, a curious frown on his face, Gabriel is relieved to see he’s wearing the tunic. He’s probably wearing his shorts underneath, which is fine, really. Gabriel has to remind himself to tell Jason to do the same, later.

“Dean, this is Jason,” he says, gesturing toward the slave behind him. “He’s gonna work with you from now on. For a little while at least.”

He can see the wheels turn inside Dean’s brain, figuring out what probably happened. Or maybe he’s telling himself Gabriel brought Jason back to fuck with him. He’s been more than paranoid these last few days, especially when it comes to Gabriel’s behavior. Anyway, Gabriel decided not to care about what Dean thought of him anymore, he reminds himself, so he doesn’t.

“Hey,” Dean finally answers, nodding toward Jason.

Jason doesn’t answer. Gabriel turns to him. “Okay, take a look around, try to familiarize yourself with the space… I, uh, need to talk to Dean. Go.”

“Yes, Master,” Jason answers obediently.

Heavens, he forgot how satisfying that was. Dean walks to him, and Gabriel leads him into the entry way, hidden from Jason’s line of sight.

“Before you can say anything,” he whispers quickly, leaning toward Dean who’s glaring daggers at him, “I didn’t have a choice, okay? I think Alastair’s fucking with me.”

“No kidding,” Dean snorts.

“Shut up. He was ‘interrupted’ by Val again. And dropped Jason on me. So…”

“As long as you don’t make me sleep on that dog mat in the kitchen I’m cool with it.”

Gabriel almost snorts, too. He’s cool with it, huh? How nice. But he doesn’t. “I’ll book a bed for him in the Hotel’s slaves quarters. But in the meantime… you’ll have to play along. When he’s here.”

Dean scolds at him, clearly unhappy. “How long?”

“I don’t know… I’m hoping only for a day or two. But I can’t really be sure…”

“Fuck.”

“I know…”

“I can’t…” Dean starts. Then takes a breath, like he’s preventing himself from bursting out in anger. “I’m tired, Gabe, I can’t keep pretending I’m…” he trails off.

“Then I’ll give you some stupid orders so you can get out of here, okay? Don’t worry, we’ll find something.” Dean shakes his head, looking at his feet. “Okay?”

“yeah, yeah, okay,” Dean answers.

He walks back into the room, so Gabriel follows. Jason is standing in the living room, straight as a rod. Dean tsks looking at him.

“you’re standing all wrong,” he tells Jason.

The boy stares at him, seemingly wary.

“You wanna put your hands behind your back,” Dean goes on. “Not at your sides. You’re not in the army, dude. You’re a slave. So stand like one.”

Jason steals a glance toward Gabriel, who nods. He has to admit he’s slightly impressed. Dean is taking this to heart, it seems.

“Right,” Dean says when Jason does as he’s told. “That’s… yeah, better, I guess.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Gabriel comes in. “I’ll take it from here. I think you have something to do down in the kitchen, if I’m not mistaken?”

Dean is fighting against himself, Gabriel sees it. He’s probably coming up with a hundred ways of telling Gabriel to go fuck himself. But when he realizes he’s being dismissed, his features smoothen, taking an air of relief. “Yes, Master,” he says.

Gabriel ignores the twinge of arousal hearing Dean calling him ‘Master’ always provokes inside him.

Right. Now, as Dean leaves, Gabriel finds himself staring at Jason, wondering what to do with him. He decides to play it like he does with every new slave he gets. Assess his personality, act according to what he finds out. It’s going to be a long afternoon. And they don’t have much time. He goes to the mini bar, pours himself a drink, and finally lands his gaze on Jason again.

“So. Jason. Tell me all about you. Don’t leave out anything.”

 

\-------------------------------------- 

 

There’s only so much laundry and dishes to do until one gets fed up. Dean is reaching that point. He helped with anything he could in the kitchens, and he’s bored. Getting out of the room is good, now, but this Jason guy is a whole new problem.

A quick check with the clock on the wall tells him he’s been in the kitchen for more than three hours. It’s enough, he thinks. Really, what else can he do? At this point, going upstairs doesn’t seem so bad, even if he has to behave like a slave. At least Gabriel lets him speak freely, so he knows he has a bit of leeway when it comes to acting in front of Jason.

Dean doesn’t like him, doesn’t like the way he looked. Even if Dean knows that being a slave is not exactly a walk in the park, Jason still rubs him the wrong way.But even so, Dean doesn’t think he can stay alone much longer.

He hates Gabriel’s guts right now, but Gabriel was sort of right when he said Dean doesn’t know what he wants. He truly doesn’t, because right now all he seeks is the presence of someone familiar. He could go see Cas and Meg, but he’s not sure he wants to see them. There’s something happening between them, and these days, he feels more and more like he’s intruding.

 

It only takes a few minutes to get back to Gabriel’s room, their room, a bag of freshly laundered tunics slung over his shoulder.  He’s got enough tunics now for him and the new kid.  He doesn’t bother knocking since Gabriel gave him his own key card.  He checks the hallway to make sure no one sees and slide it in.

“Not so fast, not—Jesus, Fuck!”

Dean stills in the entryway. He knows that tone of voice. He knows it too well. And, to make Gabriel curse like that? There’s only one thing that could do that. Up until now, Dean thought he was the only one to have that secret power.

The fact that the curtains between the entryway and the living room are closed should be a clue that he’s right but he doesn’t want to believe it yet.

Gabriel lets out a moan. Dean’s heart speeds up.

He slowly peeks beyond the curtains. He knows what he’s going to see. He just doesn’t want to believe it. Not even when the truth is punching him right in the face.

Gabriel is sprawled on the sofa, back to Dean, legs spread wide. His slacks are pushed down on his hips, but beside that he’s completely clothed. One of his hand is on Jason’s head between his thighs, fisted in his hair, and the other is gripping at the back of the sofa so hard his knuckles have turned white.

Dean is paralyzed, stuck in place, standing behind the curtains with his heart fluttering inside his chest like he’s dying. He can’t take his eyes off of them, off of Jason who bobs his head enthusiastically, eyes closed, moaning around what Dean imagines is Gabriel’s length, he can’t really see it from where he’s standing.

“Slow down, for Heaven’s sake, slow down,” Gabriel urges, hissing. “Fuck. Yes, just like that!”

Dean comes back to reality when Jason’s eyes pop open. He’s looking straight at Dean. But he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. He seems to be smirking even, and it’s too much for Dean to handle. He abandons his bag of laundry and flees the room, silently closing the door behind him.

Leaning his back against the door, he takes a very much needed minute to try and stop shaking. He doesn’t want Gabriel to know he saw him. Fuck, what was he thinking? Gabriel is just a fucking angel, and like any other angel when he has someone convenient at hand, he’ll use them. Of course, he jumped on the occasion.

Dean stumbles toward the elevator, punching the number three as hard as he can. His head is spinning, for Christ’s sake!  He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t get the tears prickling at his eyes, the furious beat of his heart. He hates Gabriel. Hates him.

And, fuck, why did he think he was so special, huh? He’s just Dean, just a hunter, nothing special, not even a good lay. What was he thinking? That Gabriel was going to pursue him until he was finally ready? Maybe, maybe he thought—it doesn’t matter what he thought. Gabriel is an asshole.

He rushes outside the elevator, looking for Cas and Meg’s room. When he finds it, he tries to calm down, to breathe, before he knocks. Nobody answers. He knocks again, harder. He feels like he’s going to hyperventilate any second, now.

The door slides open, slowly, when he’s about to knock for a third time. Meg stares at him like she’s surprised. She positions herself in the opening, obscuring the view of the room.

“Yes?”

Dean takes her appearance in. Her cheeks are slightly red, she’s out of breath, and there’s a… a hickey on her neck. Jesus Christ!

“Sorry, I… you’re busy,” Dean says.

He tries not to look, but catches a glimpse of Cas quickly putting his shirt back on. He should’ve known they’d… it was so obvious.

“Dean,” she frowns. “Are you okay? Something happened?”

He shakes his head, smiling. _Yes, smile, Dean, best thing to do for now._ “Nothing bad. It’s just…” _Think of something. Quick._ “The meeting with Alastair’s been interrupted again and he dumped a slave on Gabe so… if you go there, be careful. We have to act in front of him, too, now.”

She’s not convinced, he can see she’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. She can see the wetness in the white of Dean’s eyes and she takes a breath, ready to say something, but Dean doesn’t let her.

“Okay, I need to go. Have fun. Wrap it before you tap it, you know the drill,” he winks.

Jesus, he sounds so fake! He can’t stand his own voice, can’t stand how shaky he sounds. He turns around, walking away as fast as he can before she can say anything.

He wants to go home, he wants Sam and a good hunt and he wants to forget about this whole mess. But he can’t, now, can he? He needs… he needs… someone. He needs someone, fuck! He needs someone to tell him it’s fine, it’s nothing. It’s just his inner slave acting up or something.

Before he even really thinks about it, he’s in front of Gregory’s door. He knocks, fighting the tightness in his throat. He’s not going to cry, for fuck’s sake, just because he caught Gabriel getting sucked off by another slave!

Gregory opens the door with a surprised smile, being his usual self.

“Hey, Dean! Come in, man. I’m glad to see you!”

Dean steps carefully inside, relieved, and at the same time so tense his jaws are starting to hurt. Gregory passes him by, bending down to rummage through his travel bag. He throws a pair of sweatpants at Dean, who catches it clumsily.

Gregory’s brows draw close together. “Something wrong?”

“It’s just…” Dean starts. He lets out a shaky laugh.

The sweatpants in his hands are soft, warm. Blinking to push the tears away, he puts tjem on, smoothing the material on his thighs.

Gregory steps closer, squeezing Dean’s arm in what Dean assumes is supposed to be a reassuring gesture, “What is it?”

“I didn’t know I’d react that way,” Dean blurts.  “I mean,” he looks at the floor, “I’m not special. I just thought I was… to him. I thought… but I just hate him so much and I guess I drove him away. And now… it’s stupid.” He’s rambling. Fuck! He didn’t even say hello! He stops.

“Gabriel,” Gregory says.

He pats his bed as he sits. Dean joins him without really thinking about it.

“Tell me what happened,” Gregory asks, gently.

Dean can’t look at him. He feels so stupid. “Nothing bad. Nothing I shouldn’t’ve expected.” He pauses, twisting the fabric of the sweatpants in his hands. “I… I walked in on him and…” he clears his throat, “this other slave. A guy Alastair dumped on him. They were… Gabe, he had…” How can he put this in a way that wouldn’t sound bitter and angry? He doesn’t think he can. “He had his dick in the guy’s mouth,” he huffs.

Gregory raises an eyebrow at him, playful. “Did you want his dick in your mouth instead?”

“No.”

“But it hurt you, anyway.”

“Yeah…” Dean shakes his head. “Stupid, I know.”

Yes, it is, stupid, very stupid, to think Gabriel actually wanted Dean around when he was just probably seeing the convenience of taking Dean with him.

“Nah,” Gregory says. “It’s truly not.”

“Well at least it’s stupid that I’m reacting this way…”

Gregory gives him a knowing smile, tilting his head on the side. “No, I think you’re having a bit of a revelation. You just need to see it.”

Dean runs his hand over his face, and stops for a second, just to consider what Gregory’s words imply. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Dean.”

Dean huffs. He stares at Gregory, fighting the lump in his throat. “Why can’t I—“ he pauses. Thinks about what he’s going to say. “Why can’t I be crushing on you instead?”

“Because I’m too expensive for you, Honey,” Gregory smiles.

Dean burst out a wet laugh, shaking his head. “I could, though. You’re easy to like.”

Gregory shrugs. “It’s my job.”

Nodding, Dean looks away. There’s no way he can speak about this with anyone. He can’t even wrap his head around it. He’s… crushing on Gabriel. Seems like a good way to put it. A crush, that’s all it is. His heart misses a beat as if disagreeing with him, just thinking about the way Jason’s lips were wrapped around Gabriel’s dick. Tears well up in his eyes. He swallows them back.

“What do I do now?”

“I think,” Gregory starts to answer, sighing, “you need to consider all the possibilities.” He crosses his legs under himself, getting comfortable. “I mean, we both know Gabriel. He’s an ass. There’s no denying it. He’s an angel, so obviously he’s going to be a bit oblivious of our feelings, at times. And, not to play the Devil’s Advocate here, but he’s also kind, and generous. He cares, in his own way, about us. So maybe there’s a good explanation as to why he was… getting it on with a slave. Don’t you think it’s worth thinking about?”

Dean snorts. “Right.”

“I’m not kidding, Dean. Again, he’s an angel. When he’s offered something he takes it. What tells you that guy didn’t offer just to get into his good graces?”

Dean stares, but doesn’t answer.

“And,” Gregory goes on, “even if it’s not the case. What do you know? Maybe he has feelings for you, too. Maybe he just wanted to get laid and he didn’t want to use you that way because he knows what you went through.”

Dean clears his throat. “We actually fucked this morning,” he lets out, voice small.

Gregory quirks an eyebrow. “Oookay. Well, maybe he liked it. Maybe he missed you.”

“We had a fight. There’s no way he’s missing me, right now.”

“You had a fight.”

Dean hums, and looks away, a bit ashamed.

“Dean, look at me.” He does, reluctantly. Gregory is looking all serious now, eyeing Dean like he’s trying to figure him out. “Did you actually talk about it? Together? I mean, talk about your relationship status.”

“There’s no relationship to talk about,” Dean scoffs. But there’s a tingly wetness at the back of his throat again. “He’s fucking everything that moves, that’s what he does, and he doesn’t want me. I was just convenient.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he was getting blown by another guy!”

He didn’t want it to come out angry, but it did, and his heart speeds up again thinking about Gabriel on that couch.

“Again,” Gregory sighs, “why does it bother you? Did you think about that?”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t have a fucking clue, okay? If I did I wouldn’t be here!”

A tear slides along his cheek. He furiously wipes it away, looking straight at the wall in front of him instead of Gregory. The wallpaper is a bit torn right above the TV. It’s annoying. Dean wants to get up and rip the thing apart.

“I think…” Gregory says after a moment of silence, unfolding his legs, “that you need to think about what you want.” His hand is on Dean’s arm. Dean doesn’t move. “But first you need to understand that it’s okay to feel that way. Even after everything that’s happened. Gabriel fucked up, yeah. He often does. And I have the impression he especially does when it comes to you.” A sigh. “And it’s totally fair that you’re angry. It’s also totally fair that you’re having different kinds of feelings toward him, after what you’ve been through together. And it’s fine. Those feelings don’t have to be contradictory. You can have both and it doesn’t make you a bad person.” Finally he tilts his head on the side, smiling, “But I really think you need make things clear. To yourself, and to him.”

“So what,” Dean almost spits, “you’re saying we should have a heart to heart?”

Gregory throws him a bitch face that could trump all of Sam’s bitch faces at once. “I know you’re trying to be funny. But, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Dean shakes his head. Gregory ignores him, and stands up, walking to the mini-bar. “I think it could be good for you both,” he says, searching through it. He takes two beers out, popping the caps off. “I’m aware it’s a bit too reasonable for the two of you,” he hands Dean one of the beers. Dean takes it, looking up at him. “But in the end I’m sure you’ll both feel better after you talk.”

Dean nods, taking a sip. Gregory sits back next to him, giving him an expectant look. “I’ll think about it,” Dean says.

Gregory smiles. It’s all Dean needs to find the courage to go back to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Dubcon between Dean and Gabriel  
> \- Also a little scene that could count as "cheating" depending on how you see things. And, yes, this concerns Gabe and Dean too.


	10. Love Bites

 A couple of hours later, Dean is back in the corridor leading to his room. He’s calmed down, learned to forgive and everything, or at least tried to, because Gabriel’s little slip up kind of fucked him up, more than a little. If getting blown by a guy you’ve just met can be called a ‘slip up’, that is, but Dean isn’t sure how to call it otherwise, and, besides, it’s the easiest way for him to let it slide and forget about it, so that’s what he’s going to call it. Nobody has to know, anyway, because he’ll just pretend he didn’t see anything.  

Ignorance is bliss, after all, or so they say.

Once he reaches his room, he almost knocks before coming in, but figures that Jason would find that strange. So he doesn’t. This time, the curtains between the entryway and the room are open again, the bag of laundry he abandoned when he fled earlier has disappeared, and all that can be heard is the sound of the TV quietly rambling in the living room. Dean figures, if Gabriel knew that he saw him and Jason, things wouldn’t be so calm.

It gives him a bit of confidence as he walks in, only to see Gabriel sprawled on the couch, looking bored and slightly annoyed, remote in hand as he changes channels like a child who just discovered the magic of remote controlling systems. He perks up when he hears Dean come in, reminding Dean strangely of a cat who heard a faraway noise and is trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Dean is totally not imagining him with cat ears right now.

“I was worried sick,” Gabriel whispers, brows furrowing as he takes Dean in, “where were you?”

Heat spreads through Dean at the words, and it takes all of his willpower to tamp it down. _Forgive and forget_ , he reminds himself. “You said I could get out of your hair,” Dean whispers back, “so I got out of your hair. Why are we whispering?”

“It’s…” Gabriel says, eyes darting toward the bedroom.

The curtains are closed, but again it’s not unusual so Dean tries not to let his imagination run away with it. Probably nothing, probably something stupid, something so very Gabriel, so Dean just cocks his head on the side, and waits.

Gabriel clears his throat. “Jason’s sleeping.”

_Jason’s sleeping_ , Dean’s thoughts echo. _In the bedroom_. Dean understands what that means as soon as the words leave Gabriel’s mouth, and the good resolutions he decided on when he left Gregory’s room fly out the window right there and then.

“I can’t do this,” he blurts, turning around.

Gabriel sighs, exasperated, and pushes himself off the couch. “Come on, Dean, don’t start—“

Dean sees red. He spins around, violently, blood pulsing in his head as his heart speeds up. “You only think about your ass, you know? You do,” he spits, when Gabriel raises an eyebrow, ready to shoot something back. “We’re here for _your_ brother, who kinda deserves to be rotting in jail for a little while, if you want my thoughts on this, but I came here anyway, I came to help _you_.” He takes a step forward, right into Gabriel’s space. “I took everything you threw at me, I did everything you needed me to do, and that’s how you repay me? By getting laid with the first available guy that comes your way?”

“I don’t know what yo—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!!”

Gabriel holds his gaze, lips pinching in a thin line. There. They’re on the same page, now. “Lower your voice, Dean.”

“I saw you,” Dean whispers, face as close to Gabriel’s as he dares be, “with your dick in his mouth, not three hours after I left you alone with him.”

Huffing, Gabriel looks away briefly. “He came onto me.”

“I don’t care,” Dean shoots back. “You think you’re all good and mighty, freeing your slaves, pretending to be a good little angel, but the truth is,” he drops his voice even lower, eye to eye with Gabriel, “you’re like all the others. Someone gives you a slave, you take advantage. Imagine what the people you freed will think once they learn about it,” he spits. “Imagine what Cas will think.”

“Dean, if you tell him, I swear—”

Dean sees the curtains to the bedroom move in his peripheral vision and he barely has time to duck his head in fake submission before Jason comes out. Clueless for a second, Gabriel doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, until he sees him, too.

He clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What do you want?”

“You were gone, Master,” Jason answers, feigning innocence. Dean looks up, only to see that he’s stark naked. The top of his chest and his neck are covered in hickeys. Dean’s stomach sinks. “You said you’d join me again. I was waiting.”

“I will,” Gabriel answers after a slight moment of hesitation, “please, go back, I need to finish this discussion with Dean, first.”

“Yes, Master,” Jason says. The perfect figure of obedience, really.

When Gabriel looks back at Dean, Jason smiles Dean’s way, triumphantly, as if to say, _I took your place. What are you going to do about it?_ And, with that, he goes back the way he came.

_Nothing_ , Dean thinks back at him. _I won’t do a damn thing, because I can’t stand this shit anymore._

Frozen in place, Gabriel tries to speak, but seems to think better of it. He knows he’s been caught. He knows there’s no denying it. Dean wonders how he’s going to apologize this time. Not that he really cares, because he won’t let him. Doesn’t stop Gabriel from trying, though.

“Dean…”

“I get it,” Dean answers. The anger left him. There’s no bite to his tone. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You’re the one who made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“I said, I get it!”

Gabriel ignores him. “Do we need to talk about it?”

Dean lets out a tired laugh, “We’ve tried talking. It’s doesn’t work.” _I wanted to tell you so much but you ruined it. Again._ “I’ll take the bed you made reservations for in the slave Quarters.”

“I…,” Gabriel hesitates. “I forgot.”

“Great.” Dean’s heart sinks lower in his chest. “Never mind, I’ll manage.”

“I can call—”

“Please, don’t. I’m fine.”

He looks around, desperate to get away from Gabriel. It’s late, he sees. Or it feels late. After midnight, that he knows, he remembers seeing the bright, red numbers turning to zero on Gregory’s digital alarm clock. Probably too late to go bother him again. He can’t got to Meg and Cas, because he can’t look them in the eye now that he knows they’re… what are they? An item? Fuck buddies? Just thinking about it makes his heart pound inside his chest, so he dismisses the thought.

Only thing left for him to do is sleep on the dog mat in the kitchen. Like the slave he is. Because he knows, now, he never stopped being one, not really. What he feels now, it’s not real. It’s just his inner slave acting up.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he finally lets out.

Gabriel doesn’t answer. And, even if he did, Dean likes to think it wouldn’t have stopped him. He walks away, taking slow, deliberate steps. As if he’s not breaking a little more inside with each one, as if hearing Gabriel retreat to the bedroom doesn’t hurt. The emotional ups and downs are fucking exhausting, and Dean has had enough of them. Crying won’t help him, that’s how the song goes, right? So he won’t cry anymore, he won’t wallow in self-pity, because that’s what he’s been doing the last few days, or, heck, the last few months even, and it certainly didn’t help.

He needs to act. Before he loses himself completely.

Later, as Dean tosses and turns on the hard floor, he wonders if the moans he can hear coming from the bedroom are just for his benefit, or if they’re genuine. Gabriel seems to be trying to be discreet, at least. But Jason doesn’t extend the same courtesy. Like he’s trying to give a soundtrack to Dean’s heartbreak.

_Awesome_ , Dean thinks, as he relocates to the couch. _Perfect_.

Obviously it had to last all night long. He gives up on the idea of sleep a couple of hours before dawn, but he waits until the first ray of light comes to brighten the room before he sits up. His brain is empty, jealousy the only thing he can still feel besides exhaustion.

He hears snippets of conversation, a quiet laugh from Gabriel from time to time, a hum of agreement from Jason. Dean doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t move, not until the bedroom grows completely silent. By then, he knows what he’s going to do.

He’ll go home, since Gabe doesn’t need him anymore, if he ever needed him at all. First motion of the day, go back to the basics. Making the decision seems to take a weight off his chest. A very small weight, _baby steps, pace yourself_ , but for the first time in a long while, he feels right. He feels like himself.

_Welcome back, Dean Winchester. Long time no see, vacations over, Dude, get your ass back on track, monsters are a-waiting and they sure as Hell ain’t gonna gank themselves._

And that’s it. He’ll go home, and he’ll find Sammy, and they’ll leave the mansion. Nobody will miss him, there.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Dean mutters into the phone receiver.

Sunlight streams through the little window of Gregory’s room, already so bright, even at this early hour of the morning, that Dean has to either squint or be blinded for life. At least, Gregory didn’t try to make Dean talk this time, just quietly exited the room when Dean asked if he could make a phone call.

“ _Archangel Gabriel’s mansion_ ,” someone says on the other end of the line.

Dean sighs in relief. “Lis?”

“ _Dean? Hey! I’m glad you’re calling, we were starting to worry!_ ”

“Sorry,” he answers, running his hand on his neck in embarrassment. He kept telling himself he was doing it for her, and the others, but he never thought about letting them know how things were going. “Nothing much, to be honest. But I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“ _As long as you’re okay_ ,” Lisa says, the smile in her voice putting him at ease.

“I am,” he answers. “Is Sam around?”

She hesitates. “ _No. But, um… I’ll tell him to call when he gets back if you want_.”

“Lis, where is he?”

She huffs a half laugh, “ _Just… on a run, you know?_ ”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Dean tells her.

“ _Dean, please…_ ”

“Where’s Sam?”

She sighs, and Dean hears some shuffling on her side. “ _He’s on a hunt_ ,” she lets out. “ _With Bobby, Victor and Charlie._ ”

Dean can’t believe what he’s hearing. “On a hunt?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lisa answers in a rush, words tumbling out of her mouth like they were just on the tip of her tongue. “ _They’re going after that journalist that disappeared. The one who published your fake interview_.”

“Ruby?” Lisa hums. Dean runs a hand over his mouth. “Shit,” he breathes.

Going after Ruby is probably the stupidest thing Sam could do. Does he seriously think now’s the time to look for her? They have bigger problems, and Dean really needs Sam right now. Kid just couldn’t stay put for three goddamn weeks, dammit!

“ _I’m sorry, Dean…_ ”

“No,” he says, closing his eyes, hands clutching at the receiver so he won’t sound too angry. “No. Thank you for telling me. It’s fine. I just wanted to… ask him something but… I’ll manage. Thanks, Lis. I need to go.”

“ _Be careful_.”

“Don’t worry about me. Say ‘hi’ to the kids for me, okay? Tell them I’m fine and I’ll be back soon.”

“ _I will. Take care, Dean_.”

The door opens as Dean hangs up, and he looks up tiredly, watching Gregory come in with a paper bag in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other.

“I have caffeine,” Gregory smiles, walking up to Dean. He sits on the bed, next to him, and hands him the bag, balancing the cups on his knees. “So, how did the phone call go?”

Dean sighs, eyeing the donuts inside the bag with a pout of disgust. He’s not feeling hungry at all. “Not good,” he grunts, tossing the bag on the side and reaching for one of the paper cup. “But it’s fine.”

 “Bad news?”

“No,” Dean says. Then changes his mind before taking a sip, “Yeah. But it’s _fine_.”

The coffee taste a bit too sweet in his mouth, and Dean makes a face as he hands it back to Gregory, taking the other instead. He brings it to his mouth and hums, satisfied, when only the taste of black coffee hits his tongue.  

“So,” Gregory lets out, crossing a leg over the other. “How did it go with Gabriel?”

Dean laughs, a note of bitterness in his voice. “Awesome. He’s fucking the slave boy Alastair gave him.” He’s a bit disappointed when Gregory doesn’t look as disgusted as he was expecting, “at least he’s taking this job to heart.”

“I want details,” Gregory just answers.

“I didn’t peek to see how they were doing it,” Dean deadpans, “Sorry.”

“Don’t play cute, Dean, it doesn’t suit you. What did you say to each other?”

“Does it matter?”

“It depends on what you’re about to do,” Gregory sighs, a knowing look on his face.

Right. Like what Dean really needs is another life lesson. No thank you. He brings the cup to his mouth, hiding behind it as he answers. “I can’t stay here. I need to go.”

“Why?”

Dean freezes, side-eyeing him in disbelief, “Have you heard a word I said? Gabriel’s fucking another guy!”

Gregory raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And it kind of fucking stings after every fucking thing I did for him!” Dean explodes.

Hey, now, there’s a look of pity if Dean’s ever seen one. It makes his stomach roll unpleasantly. “Ah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Dean sneers.

Gregory holds his hands up, placatingly. “I’m not judging you, Dean. I’m just trying to understand…” he nips at his lower lip, thinking. “Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

Dean huffs. “I don’t love him,” he counters, looking at his knees.

“So you didn’t tell him? Anything?”

The question is like an itch inside him that Gregory just pointed out but that Dean can’t reach and scratch, and it prompts all sorts of thoughts that Dean tries to grasp, to articulate, s _o many things to tell him, you have no idea, it’s not just that, it’s so much more, but no way I could get a word out because even if I did he wouldn’t have cared he had this guy waiting for him in his bed younger better than me why should he care I don’t feel anything anyway I’m not good with words I didn’t know what to say I couldn’t get a word out it fucking hurt like Hell._

But they slip through his mind, too quick to catch, and escape him before he can say anything.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he finally says, voice quiet. “It wouldn’t’ve changed anything, anyway.”

A sigh is all the reply he gets. And there’s nothing Dean can add, really, so he drinks his coffee, waiting for Gregory to break the silence.

Which he does, after a while. After it gets uncomfortable. “What are you gonna do, then?”

“Leave,” Dean says.

He wants to. So much. There’s just a slight problem, he knows, the demons know him, they know his face. He’s famous, Alastair said, Val said, too, they know who he is, and he can’t escape dressed like this, so he’ll have to think of something before he can make his move.

Gregory hums, thoughtfully. “Can’t you just… think about it, first?”

Dean’s vision blurs, for a second, before his eyes focus on the lid of his cup. He looks up from his knees, smoothing his features. “I thought about it long and hard, trust me.”

“I mean,” Gregory answers, licking his lips, “you’re hurt, and you’re tired… don’t you want to wait a couple of hours, see if you still want to leave Gabriel alone in here?”

“No.”

“Well…” Gregory tries, carefully, like he knows he doesn’t have any arguments left but he’s going to try to say something anyway. Which, hey, if only people could listen to themselves, they’d probably bust Dean’s nuts less often. “What are you gonna do, then? Walk out of here, in your tunic, in front of all the demons? Don’t you want to think about how you’re going to pull this off, first?”

“I can’t.”

“Dean.”

“No!” Standing up, Dean exhales, trying to shake the anger rising inside his chest. Not Gregory’s fault. “You don’t, you don’t get it,” he says, voice wavering a little. “I just can’t stay here any longer.”

He can’t explain it, can’t describe the bubbles of desperation growing inside him. The way his thoughts seem to grow darker each passing day, suffocating everything else, leaving him empty of hope and full of fear and anxiety instead. There’s no word for it, not in his vocabulary anyway. All he can do is try to make Gregory understand that everything, all of this, is pointless. Dean can’t do it anymore, and Gabriel has another toy, anyway, so why bother? Dean’s more than useless. All he’s left with is a desperate need to get away from the demons, from the humiliation. From people.

He can’t stay here. He can’t.

“Okay,” Gregory says in a breath, bringing his coffee to his mouth. “So… we need to have a quick brainstorming session, then.”

Dean blinks at him, momentarily struck dumb. “So, you’ll help me?”

“If I can,” Gregory shrugs. “Yes. Of course.”

What could he have possibly done to deserve it, he doesn’t know, but gift horse and everything, yeah, he’s not going to complain.

“Thanks,” he breathes, whole body slumping forward in relief. “I owe you one.”

Gregory smiles gently. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean.”

_He really means it_ , Dean thinks. _Poor bastard_. He really means it, and he’s ready to lay down his life, risk his status to help Dean get out of here. _Definitely don’t deserve it._ But Dean won’t say a thing about it. He needs it too much.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Never should it be said that Gabriel is a bad master. Was. Is. Isn’t. He _is_ not. He knows he’s not, but somehow a nagging sense of guilt has been dancing around his mind, making him more than uncomfortable ever since the night before.

Dean isn’t in the room anymore. Obviously, he isn’t, after all the noise Gabriel and Jason made. Gabriel was even impressed he stayed as long as he did. He heard Dean leave, in the early hours of the morning, and he’s been unable to close his eyes and relax ever since.

It’s a fact that he was angry at Dean, and what happened last night was a way of getting back at him a little, but still. It was cruel, and unnecessary.  

Dear Heavens, he’s having _emotions_. Not that he never had those before, but this time they’re amplified, to a point where it physically hurts just to think about what he did wrong. And far from helping him forget about it, it’s actually making him think about it all the more, think about Dean and how he could feel, and Gabriel really doesn’t like where all of this is leading him.

He felt the same, but not quite so, when Dean escaped his estate a few months ago. Except that, at the time, he considered that he was in the right and Dean was in the wrong. Now, he doesn’t have that privilege anymore, and as Dean would say, it sucks, big time.

And Jason, well… Jason is a whole other matter. Gabriel doesn’t care for him, not really, but he couldn’t help himself. Or, he could have, if he really wanted to, but the horrible truth is that he didn’t want to. It’s unsettling, and self-loathing now joins the jumble of feelings wreaking havoc inside his mind. Even the soft inhales Jason is making as he sleeps beside Gabriel makes his skin crawl, now.

If only Jason was not as funny and charming as he is, it would be easier. But he is. Funny, and charming, that is. Gabriel can’t help it, can’t resist it because it reminds him so much of Dean and their first months together that Gabriel just had to succumb, really.

Not that he’s anything like Dean. It’s the most bizarre thing, in all of this, that Jason and Dean have almost nothing in common, but somehow Gabriel can’t help comparing them both. Or rather, comparing all the ways in which they aren’t alike. Jason’s mouth is not plump enough. His lips are too dry, compared to Dean’s, and he kisses with too much force, there’s nothing of Dean’s playfulness in the way he nips at Gabriel’s lips, no malice in his eyes when he smiles. His voice is too high pitched, his screams are forced, nothing like Dean’s breathy exhales when Gabriel teases. His submission is too simple, born from fear, probably, so different from the way Dean still resists his own desire until he can’t deny it anymore and has to give in completely to Gabriel, until Gabriel is free to do and ask anything he wants.

No, truly. They’re nothing alike.

So what is Gabriel doing, exactly? Sex with Jason was good, as much as sex can be, he can’t deny it. But it’s missing something. Familiarity, perhaps. Warmth, tenderness, intimacy, for sure. It’s missing everything that makes Dean.

He misses Dean.

His heart aches at the thought, but he shoves it aside.  Dean doesn’t want to have anything to do with him, that he made clear. There’s no use thinking about it. So why can’t he stop?

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“You’re not coming with me,” Dean grunts.

Several of Gregory’s clothes are spread on the bed, and Dean’s been trying things on for a little while now. The clothes fit but they’re all so… not his style.

Gregory nods, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, I am. If you need a diversion it’s better that I come with. Just in case.”

“No,” Dean answers. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. You’re staying here.”

“Dean, come on, we’ve been over this…”

“Yeah, we did, and I decided you’re not coming. I can’t risk it.”

He raises an eyebrow at Gregory, insistent. Accepting his help, yes, but putting him in danger when it’s really not necessary? No way in Hell.

“Fine,” Gregory lets out, holding up his hands in defeat. “But you let me go to Gabriel as soon as you’re out.”

“No way,” Dean says, picking up a leather jacket from the pile of clothes. “You have to wait a couple of hours, give me time to get away.”

He doesn’t wait to see how Greg’s going to answer, instead fumbling with the zipper of his jacket as he tries it on, the clothes an unfamiliar weight on his frame after spending so many days without wearing any. The shoes are weird, too. Taking a breath, he wriggles his toes inside the sneakers, the soft cotton of his socks getting stuck in between them.

“Okay.” He blows out a breath, holding his arms out. “What do you think?”

Gregory hums as he looks at him. Dean’s nervous, because of the situation, because of the clothes, everything is a bother in this moment, and he can’t help bouncing on the sole of his feet like an impatient toddler.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Gregory reassures Dean when he sees him tug nervously on the collar of his t-shirt. “All you have to do is walk straight to the door. Nobody will notice.”

“I know.”

“Now, how do you plan on leaving,” Gregory answers, pulling a twenty dollar bill out of his pants pocket and shoving it in Dean’s hand. “Not on foot.”

“I’ll steal a car,” Dean answers, trying to give it back.

Gregory steps out of reach. “You really don’t wanna do that until you’re a few hours away, Dean, trust me.” He smiles, satisfied, “Use the money for a bus. Should take you far enough that it’ll be safe.”

Dean sighs, hand tightening around the bill. Of course he knows this. He’s too eager to get away and if he doesn’t pace himself he’s going to make a rookie mistake that could get him killed. “Okay,” he concedes, hiding the twenty in his pocket. “Thanks.”

Smiling brighter, Gregory pats Dean’s shoulder, eyeing him from head to toe. Dean avoids his gaze, instead focusing on the rhythm of his heart. A heavy silence falls on them as Dean tries to calm his nerves. It’s simple, really. Nothing will go wrong, because it’s the middle of the day, a lot of people are there, coming in and out of the hotel, and even if the demons are there, too, there’s no way they’ll have enough time or enough interest to notice him. There’s nothing to fear. He’s not that important. Nobody will notice.  

It’s just this constant anxiety that’s been following him around for days, months if he’s honest, that’s acting up even more now, because he’s that close to freedom. It’s probably guilt, too, because he’ll be leaving Gabriel, and Meg, and Cas.

He can’t let it affect him now.

“You’ll be fine,” Gregory finally says, breaking the silence.

He pulls Dean into a hug, and Dean, after a second of hesitation, hugs back. “Thanks.” He pulls away, catching Gregory’s eyes. “For everything.”

“You make it sound like we’re never going to see each other again,” Greg admonishes.

Dean shrugs, “Well, y’know…”

“Don’t. We will,” Gregory interrupts. “Don’t forget you still owe me a very good, very consensual, very long fuck.” He arches an eyebrow, eyeing Dean again, this time more hungrily. “Alright?”

Dean laughs quietly, and nods. “Alright.”

 

-_-_-_-_-

 

Cas stirs his coffee angrily, eyes down, and he refused to even look in Gabriel’s general direction ever since he saw that Jason was here but Dean was not.

Meg is at his feet, on her knees. She waits until Jason is done serving Gabriel, leaving when Gabriel waves him away, before whispering, “Where’s Dean?”

If Gabriel is honest with himself, as much as he tries to be, he has to admit he completely forgot they were there. Seeing them this morning almost gave him a heart attack, especially since Jason, obviously unaware of what was going on, jumped out of bed and went to greet them before Gabriel could do anything to stop him.

So much for discretion.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answers, trying to keep a straight face as he sips a bit of tea. “And I don’t really care.” It’s a lie, and everyone knows it. Even Cas looks up from his staring contest with his cup of coffee, arching an eyebrow, clearly dubious. “He’s probably with Gregory. Sulking. _I don’t know!_ ”

Meg rolls her eyes. “What did you do?”

“Why do you always assume I’m the one who did something,” he answers, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Because you usually are,” Castiel says. “What happened?”

Gabriel appreciates the more neutral tone of his question. He still hears the reproach under it, though. “Dean let me know he wanted nothing to do with me anymore, all right? So I moved on.”

“You moved on,” Meg repeats.

“I moved on.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rise up into his hairline, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabriel doesn’t want to tell them. Because, and he’s very aware of that fact, he’s more than ashamed of what happened. It was nice, yes, but now that he admitted to himself he was capable of having genuine emotions, it’s like a dam has been opened inside him and he’s assaulted by a lot of conflicting ones.

“Oh my God,” Meg whispers. Castiel focuses his attention on her, bewildered. She makes complicated eyebrow signals, that Castiel doesn’t understand, before she rolls her eyes and decides to use words instead. “They had an argument so Gabriel had a revenge hook-up,” she turns to him, “Right?”

It would only be stupid to dignify that question with an answer. So he elects to stay silent, glaring at her instead.

Castiel’s frown is reaching new unprecedented heights. “Hook up… with whom?”

“Guess,” Meg whispers, bowing her head in submission just as Jason comes back to the balcony.

Anticipated dread makes Gabriel shiver when realization hits Castiel. He’s frowning so hard now that his eyebrows are almost touching.

“Master,” Jason says, taking the stance, “if it’s okay with you I’d like to take care of my chores down in the Slaves’s quarters.”

All Gabriel can do is wave him away, “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Thank you, Master,” Jason answers with a bow.

Heavens! What felt satisfying yesterday is twice as annoying now. Gabriel watches him leave, chewing on his lower lip and starts counting down from ten.

“What were you thinking,” Castiel exclaims when he reaches _one_ , “He’s a _slave_!”

“He came onto me!”

Meg snorts, standing up and stretching. “Right.”

“He’s a slave,” Castiel repeats. “That Alastair gave you! What if he’s trying to manipulate you?!”

“Please,” Gabriel says, tensing up as he faces his brother, “he can barely take a proper stance, you really think Alastair would send untrained slaves to spy on his clients?”

“You know there’s something wrong about all this,” Castiel goes on, ignoring Gabriel’s sigh, “and you don’t know what this young man’s been through!”

“Not to mention the fact that, being untrained, he’s probably been kidnapped,” Meg adds, sitting next to Cas, “since I very helpfully discovered there was some human trafficking going on around here, you’d think you’d be more careful who you fuck.”

“What if he’s only doing it to get into your good graces,” Castiel keeps going, “or because he’s scared?”

“I get it,” Gabriel bursts in a breath, “I fucked up, I know!”  Closing his eyes is the only thing he can do, now, because if he keeps looking at them and the disapproving expression on their faces he’s not sure what he’ll do. “I just…” He can’t lose it in front of them, he can’t admit defeat, not now, not so close to his goal. Eyes blinking open, he composes his expression into something resembling authority, “Why are you here? Did you find something?”

Castiel gives a look around, suspiciously. “Not exactly. But you might want to step inside for this.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The elevator dings as the doors close, and Dean takes a breath. He’s wearing jeans, and a nice blazer that Gregory insisted he wear instead of the jacket, because that’s how rich human assholes dress in Vegas, apparently. He even had him wear sunglasses. Inside. Like a douchebag. But it’s all good, since all he wants is to look inconspicuous. Obviously, Dean saw some people dressed the same way around here. In the streets, when he had nothing better to do than look down from the balcony, wondering how it would feel to just take a stroll around the city.

Inside the hotel, it’s different. He’s been in the part devoted to demons and their sick games, though, so he guesses the more legit part of it is full of regular people. He really hopes he won’t look out of place. It’s all going to be fine, he knows.

Doesn’t stop his heart from hammering inside his chest and his hands from trembling, though.

Biting on his lower lip, he sucks in another breath. It’s all good, and the only reason he’s nervous is because he’s leaving people behind. That’s it. That’s all it is.

The elevator dings again, and Dean’s stomach lurches just as the doors open and the sounds from the lobby assault him.

It’s full of people, men, women, dressed like tourists. All of them. He sees a group of girls wearing nothing but shorts and bikini bras, chatting excitedly among themselves as they look over a map. A guy is on the phone, right next to the clerk’s desk, sunglasses and all, snapping angrily at someone on the other end of the line. An old lady wearing a pink sweat shirt and pants ensemble is walking toward the elevator, a small dog in her handbag.

There are people everywhere, and Dean can’t focus on them all. He can’t afford to take the time. He needs to move, or he’ll look suspicious.  The thought reaches Dean’s brain, but somehow Dean’s body won’t get the message. There’s no way anybody knows what he’s doing, no way of telling him apart, especially in this crowd, and yet pins and needles run through him in waves every time he thinks about moving.

_Get over yourself!_

The old lady with the dog is right in front of him. Dean clears his throat and tries a small smile her way. She turns up her nose. Huffing, he takes a step out of the elevator.

Easy peasy. Done.

_Now it’s time to walk_. He can’t stop, can’t hesitate. He can’t look suspicious.

So he walks, casually, hands slipping into his pants pockets. Outside, it’s sunny, gusts of heat gushing inside every time someone gets in or out. Some hotel employees pass him by. They don’t even look at him. He relaxes a little. Everything’s going fine, so far, the group of women he saw giggling earlier turn to him. He gives them a charming smile, and they laugh behind their hands.

He feels pretty good about himself, now. He’s amongst humans, people, like him. There’s nothing to fear from them. Absolutely nothing, and in ten seconds he’ll be outside.

He’ll be fine, he repeats in his head, like a mantra. Fine, fine, fine, and the way the hotel clerk suddenly stares at him with a curious frown doesn’t mean anything.  

To prove his point, the clerk shakes his head, and steps away, disappearing behind the ‘Personnel Only’ door next to the desk.

_Everything’s fine_.

Inhaling, as he tries to shakes the anxiety off, Dean keeps going. Someone bumps into him, and he’s pretty sure that if he had a gun, the gangly teenager who’s now looking at him with a pissed off look would probably be staring into the barrel of it. But, Dean has no gun, and it wouldn’t be very discreet to punch him in the face, so he just smiles instead, trying for apologetic. “Sorry, man.”

“Watch where you’re going, Jackass,” the kid grunts before walking away.

Christ, kids these days… he tries to laugh it off, but his eyes land on the clerk’s desk again. The guy came back, and now he’s looking right at Dean, with what looks like suspicion.

Throat dry, Dean keeps walking. The door is right there, just a few steps.

_Everything’s fine_.

He starts shaking, his whole body vibrating with stress. He’s so close to the door he can feel the heat on his skin, the nauseating smell of grease coming from the hot dog stand on the other side of the street wafting through the door right up to his nose. He makes the mistake of turning around again, and the world seems to tilt on his axis when he sees Val. Val is there, Val is at the desk, behind the clerk, and he’s looking right at him, a smirk on his face.

_Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. Don’t fucking panic!_

Dean trips on his feet, swearing. He doesn’t have time for this, he thinks blankly, shoving someone aside. He doesn’t turn when the person protests, doesn’t apologize. People are turning his way, now, they’re noticing him. His heart pumps faster, and faster, skipping a beat, sending a flash of pain through his chest.

_Fine, dammit, it’s fine. Move it!_

He doesn’t know why, but he feels like if he makes it to the outside, if he walks through the door, then Val won’t be able to do anything about it. They won’t get him if he does. He has to make it. He has to.

_Fine, fine, fine_ , he keeps thinking. _Fucking fine_.

The door is right there. Arm’s length, now, just one more step and he--

“Dean,” Val’s deep voice purrs in his ear as his hand lands violently on Dean’s shoulder.

_Fine_.

Dean’s reflexes have him turn around. His brain seems to forget what he wants to do as soon as he hears the demon’s voice. When he looks up, Val is smiling, grinning at him.

For an impossible, very long second, Dean’s vision blurs, his heart stops, and he can’t breathe.

He exhales, forcefully, coming back to his senses. He tries to push Val away. The demon doesn’t bulge.

He’s close, half of his body pressed against Dean, pushing something blunt into Dean’s side. A knife, most likely. “Say something or scream and you’ll be dead before anybody can notice you did,” the demon whispers in his ear. “Understood?”

Dean nods. His heart sinks into his stomach, something like a bubble of despair rising in his throat. It’s over. The employee who recognized him reaches them, slightly out of breath. “Sir,” he says to Val. “I’m… I could’ve caught him, I’m sorry you had to—“

“Silence,” Val sharply orders. “Don’t make a scene. Go back to work, I’ve got him.”

“Yes, Sir,” the guy mumbles, stepping away, “Sorry, Sir.”

“Now,” Val whispers in Dean’s ear while he smiles reassuringly at an Asian lady and her son who are staring at them, “Let’s move. Gently.”

Dean’s brain struggles to form a coherent thought, and he has to fight it to manage a sentence through gritted teeth, “My Master won’t be happy with you. He sent m—“

“Save it,” Val cuts him, pushing him until he starts moving toward the desk. “We both know the archangel doesn’t even know where you are. Move!”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Gabriel sighs, sinking lower into the couch. Castiel just started pacing, for Heaven’s sake! It doesn’t bode well for anyone. Especially Gabriel.

“This isn’t working,” Castiel finally says, eyes darting around the room like he can find an answer somewhere. “We need to leave.”

“We can’t leave,” Gabriel states.

It’s like he’s the only one to understand what’s at stake, here.

“We have to,” Meg says from the other side of the couch. She’s resting her chin on her hand, eyes glazed, gaze lost somewhere beside the TV. With a sigh, she turns to him. “Alastair is clearly fucking with you, Dean is having a mental breakdown, and you’re starting to slip. So we can’t stay.”

“We _can’t_ leave,” Gabriel repeats. “I’m not done!”

“Yeah, well, we are,” Meg says in the same tone.

She stands, exhaling like she’s trying to push something out of her. Probably a very persistent need to punch him in the face.

“You’re the only one who still wants this,” Castiel says. Once he’s close to Meg, he stops moving. “We can’t drag you out of here, as much as I would love to. So we’re going to find Dean, and we’ll leave. Feel free to stay and waste your time here alone.”

“I’ll go see Gregory,” Meg lets out, relieved.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she’s gone, door slamming shut behind her.

“And I’ll call Sam,” Castiel says. He eyes Gabriel for a second. Gabriel holds his gaze. “We’ll be back in a little while. If you still want to stay, then fine, but I’ll advise you at least think about it.”  

There’s no satisfying answer for Gabriel to give, so he nods. Castiel hovers over him for a few seconds, like he’s waiting for something. Everybody’s always waiting for Gabriel to do something, say something, with the expectation that whatever it is, it’ll be stupid, or bad, and Gabriel has enough of all this. So he doesn’t speak, and waits, until Castiel turns around, and leaves the room.

Think about it, yes, Gabriel will think about it. He would love for them to think about Michael, too, think about what this all means for Gabriel, if Gabriel can’t bring proof of Lucifer’s associations with demons. His slaves—no, his… what are they to him? Not friends, not really. More like his domestics? Servants? He doesn’t have a word for what the poor kids back home are to him. His world has been turned upside down, and he’s trying his best to cope, to go along with the motion.

Truth is, he’s lost, and it scares the Holy Hell out of him. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants things to get better, to go back to ‘normal’, whatever that means. His normal, on earth, is taking care of his District, and saving a few humans along the way, make them work for him. It saved him a lot of time and thought on trivial things such as meals, or housekeeping. Mrs. Herbert is good with this whole mess. He’s lucky she doesn’t want to do anything else. And the others… he had plans for them, plans that would’ve made them happy, he’s sure of it.

But now they’ll be doing whatever they want, and he can’t stop them. He can help, barely, with money maybe. But that’s it. That’s all he is, to them, isn’t it? A rich asshole who owes them for all those years he used them for his own entertainment and his own comfort. He’s not a friend, he’s not a parent, he’s not even a guardian.

Jordan will never consider him her father, for Heaven’s sake, what was he thinking? He doesn’t even have Dean anymore to help him understand. He knew when they left that Dean was angry, still, but he thought it’d go away after a while. Time heals all wounds, as they say.

But it doesn’t. It’s a big lie, fed to humans to make them think their lives will be worth it, eventually. And they probably learn by themselves that it’s a lie, but Gabriel didn’t know. He couldn’t have known, not really, not when most of his life has been spent with his Brothers, in the deepest reaches of Heaven, and then here on earth, as an all-powerful master who didn’t have to do crap to get everything that he ever wished for.

He thought he was good. He truly thought he was okay, better than his brothers, but the truth is, he’s the worst of them. Worse than Michael, who let things happen and chose to keep silent, and worse than Lucifer, who did unspeakable things to humans, but at least had the guts to be honest about his perverted pleasures.

Gabriel is worse, because he disguised his perversion as kindness, and it worked so well that even he believed it.

Now he’s sure of it: in this story, the biggest monster is him. He already lost everything, including his self-esteem. He might as well take this as far as he can.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean is on his knees, in one of the backrooms between the lobby and, from what he can tell, the kitchens, and he’s doing his best not to hyperventilate. One of the human asshole who’s actually working for the demons is pointing a gun at his head, while another is standing on the side, posturing like he’s better than anyone in here. Val is looking down at Dean, grin still perfectly in place, hands behind his back, completely relaxed. The fucker.

“Go fetch the others,” he tells Asshole Number Two, the one who’s not pushing a gun in Dean’s face.

With a nod, the asshole takes the other door in the room, the one they didn’t drag Dean through. Dean tries to see what’s on the other side, quickly. Another room, just like this one, with shelves full of crap Dean can’t or doesn’t want to identify. So his best chance out of there is through the door behind him. The one that leads to the lobby, and a hundred people. No pressure.

“You’re… peculiar,” Val says, eyeing him.

Dean just stares back. Talking to him is no use, for now. There’s no reason to stall. The sooner they get Gabriel, the better. Dean knows he’ll get an earful afterwards, but it’s not like he cares right now. All he wants is get out of Val’s reach and the creepy way he’s looking at him.

“You’re not a slave,” Val goes on. “Not anymore, at least.” He studies Dean’s face, looking for a tell, most likely. “I admire your commitment to the role, though. You let us watch you, touch you. I just have trouble understanding what you did it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dean sneers.

Val’s smile grows wider. Dean has to suppress a shiver.

“A shame that you tried to escape so soon,” Val says, with a sigh of regret. “I would’ve loved to fuck that attitude right out of you.” He cocks his head on the side. “Maybe Alastair will let me play with you once he’s done.”

He’s goading Dean, and Dean knows it, but he can’t help the words tumbling out of his mouth, “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

There’s no way he could’ve hidden the tremor in his voice. Val seems pleased, and he straightens up, taking a step toward Dean. “I’m not sure there’ll be enough of you left to protest,” he whispers.

The door that leads to the backrooms slams opens, and Asshole Number Two comes back with Jason and Julie, the girl from the kitchens, in tow. They both take the stance behind Val, while Asshole takes his place near the door.

Two people that had direct contact with Dean, although Dean can’t say that he tried to chit chat with Jason. He mostly hates the guy, for reasons Dean’s not very proud of, but good reasons nonetheless, at least to him. That they’re here, now, doesn’t mean anything to him though. Julie, he talked to once. She seemed nice, a bit naïve, perhaps, but nothing about her screamed danger. Dean has been a hunter for a long time, and he took on some pretty big fish. If she was anything more than she appears, he’s pretty sure he would’ve known, felt it at least. Jason, though, he can guess. The guy has been shifty from the moment Dean laid eyes on him. He’s probably working with Val. Who the fuck knows? Dean’s sure he’s about to find out anyway.

“You see, Dean,” Val drawls, eyeing the two slaves with a thoughtful look, “humans are needy creatures. They always crave something.” He pauses, probably for emphasis. What a douchebag. “All I need to do is find out what it is, and I can do whatever I want with them.”

He turns back to Dean, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“My Master won’t be happy about this,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Although he’s pretty sure they’ve been discovered, it’s still worth a try.

“Please,” Val laughs, “it’s over. We know he’s no more your Master than you are a slave.” Yeah. Called it. Gabriel is really going to have Dean’s ass for this. “Don’t play stupid with me, I think we’re passed that.”

He waits, for Dean to try and deny it, maybe, but even if Dean’s reckless, he’s not stupid, as Val said. So he doesn’t.

This isn’t good, and he starts hoping that Gregory ignored everything Dean told him and went to Gabe as soon as Dean left his room. Which, knowing Gregory, and the people Dean befriends in general, he probably did.

“Now, after your little show of strength in the Casino, I had Julie here follow you,” Val goes on when he sees Dean won’t answer. “She’s been very helpful, but unfortunately, she wasn’t enough.” He turns to Jason, then, stroking the kid’s arm with the back of his hand. “So we recruited this young man. To spy on you, and distract the archangel.” Looking at Dean again, he licks his lips. “Do you know why they did it, Dean?”

So if Gregory ignored Dean, all Gabriel is gonna need is a bit of time.

“I don’t know,” Dean answers, hands tightening into fists on his thighs, “you threatened to rape them? Beat them? Use them for one of your gang bangs? Whatever demons dig these days…”

“You disappoint me,” Val sighs. “Of course not. Threats, despite popular beliefs amongst my kind, can only get you so far. Even violence isn’t as effective as the promise of a reward.” He eyes the two slaves again. “Tell Dean what you’re going to get once your mission is accomplished, Julie.”

Julie nods, shaking. Her eyes never leave the floor. “I’ll be able to get married, Master.”

“And you see, Dean,” Val says, patting Julie’s shoulder. “Julie here being a slave, she’s not allowed to sleep with anyone, unless we say so. But her and…” he leans towards her, “what’s his name again?”

“Andrew, Master.”

“Andrew, right. Julie and Andrew have been together for a little while, now. They met at another hotel,” Val says. He’s not paying attention to Dean, but there’s still a gun pointed at Dean’s head. Dean follows every single movement, muscles drawn tight. “Andrew did his part so they’d be able to work together for as long as they wish for. But marriage… it’s a whole other matter. Only way to get the authorization is to move up the ladder, high enough that you’ll never be demoted, or…” he let his sentence hang, but Dean gets it. Or you can tell on somebody, or help the demons, and you get your wish.

“Fascinating,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“And Jason here didn’t really ask for any of this,” Val goes on, ignoring him. “But he has a wife and a baby waiting for him at home. It’s amazing what you humans are willing to do for the ones you love.”

“Are you trying to talk me to death,” Dean asks, staring at Asshole Number One, the one with the gun, before going back to Val, “Because if so, it’s working. Can we move on?”

“Eager, yes,” Val says, an approving glint in his eyes, “I like that about you. I could feel it, even when you tried to pretend you were an obedient little bitch.” Clasping his hands together, he nods toward Asshole Number Two, “Julie, you will have your wish,” Val says, smiling at her, “and Jason, I’m afraid you’ll have to work a little harder if you want yours. Go back to Gabriel, make him forget Dean’s ever existed.” When he looks at Dean again, his grin turns playful, “We wouldn’t want him to come look for him just yet.”

The two slaves nod, and Asshole Number Two ushers them out and disappears with them. Another nod from Val and Asshole Number One steps back. Dean breathes a sigh of relief as the safety of the gun makes an audible click.

“Let’s not waste time,” Val says, the pleasantness of his voice telling Dean something’s horrible is gonna happen in his immediate future, “Alastair’s waiting for you.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Decision made, Gabriel feels lighter than he has in days.

The couple of hours that passed since Meg and Cas left gave him time to straighten his resolve. He’s going to get to the bottom of this, and if he has to use Jason for it, then so be it. He is a member of the Host, after all, a being far greater than humans can fathom. Sentiments are great for a time, but in this he needs focus, and allowing his feelings to dictate his decisions won’t get him very far.

He’s been in his vessel for too long. Now he needs to remember why he was created.

He shakes out of his thoughts with the sound of the door opening and closing, and he straightens up  against the back of the couch as Jason appears and walks toward him.

“I’m done with my chores, Master,” he says, head bowed, arms behind his back. “I’m available, for your pleasure.”

Gabriel would roll his eyes, if Jason didn’t look as serious as he does. Slowly, he lowers himself on the ground, kneeling in front of Gabriel, and, with careful movements, peels off his tunic and looks up at him.

Would it be part of Gabriel’s newfound calling to say ‘yes’? To just spread his legs, pull Jason by the hair until he has his mouth on him, or force Jason’s legs open and take what’s offered? Gabriel wants to do it, the thought like an impulse, there and gone in a quarter of a second.

No. It would just be indulging in the urges of his vessel, would hinder his ability to think for a while, and he can’t afford that, not now.

“Get up, I’m not in the mood,” He orders, pushing away from the couch and walking around Jason, straight to the mini bar.

It’s hard to keep himself from looking back over his shoulder and tell Jason to get dressed, already. It takes effort to remind himself he’s an archangel, a supreme being, made by his Father to watch over His Creation, not a man, not a shaky teenager who’s seeing a naked man for the first time. Not an insecure creature who can’t make the distinction between what he should do and what he wants. Sometimes the two don’t necessarily mesh, and he needs to get used to it.

Dean would tell him to get over himself if he could hear his thoughts.

The sound of Jason’s footsteps, indecisive, gets closer. Gabriel doesn’t turn around. He reaches inside the mini bar, pulls out a bottle without even looking at it and pours himself a drink that he’ll probably leave untouched.

“Master,” Jason hesitates. “I… I’m...” Too quick for Gabriel to stop him, he reaches for Gabriel’s crotch, hand squeezing Gabriel’s cock as he flattens his naked body against Gabriel’s back, “Please, allow me. I want to feel you.”

Carefully, Gabriel puts the bottle and glass down. His mind goes blank, anger sweeping away everything inside him and it takes all of his willpower to tamp it down. Deliberately slow, he reaches down, hand closing around Jason’s. In a blink, he’s turned around, twisting Jason’s arm until Jason’s on his knees, prostrated on the floor.

“What made you think,” Gabriel whispers, voice shaking with unchecked rage as he bends over, “that you could touch me without my say so?”   

Jason whimpers, trying to wriggle free of Gabriel’s grasp. “I’m s-sorry! Please! You’re hurting me!”

Gabriel pulls on his arm, feeling the muscles shift. One inch more and he’ll dislocate Jason’s shoulder. “I’m the one who decides what you do, when you do it, and if I say ‘not now’, I mean it. Are we clear?”

He almost wants to laugh hearing his own voice. He doesn’t recognize it. But it’s good. It means his good old righteousness is coming back, quicker than he thought it would.

Jason stops moving. “Yes!”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“Yes, Master! Please…” he begs, in a pathetic little groan of pain.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Gabriel spits, keeping Jason’s arm at an unnatural angle for a few more seconds before releasing him. The boy crumples to the floor, out of breath like he just ran a couple of miles.

A knock at the door has Gabriel straighten up. Obviously, now of all times, Castiel and Meg choose to come back. They enter the living room, eyes wide for Meg, a more perplex look for Cas, as they take in the sight in front of them, Jason, naked in fetal position on the floor and Gabriel towering above him, menacing.

Castiel opens his mouth, probably to ask Gabriel what he thinks he’s doing or to defend the kid, but he seem to think better of it, and just glares instead. “We need to talk,” he says, gravelly voice carrying a tone of disapproval, eyes never leaving Jason’s prostrate form.

“Get up,” Gabriel orders Jason. “Leave us.”

Jason manages to get on his knees, holding his arm close to his chest, before Meg speaks, “No. He stays.”

Gabriel’s patience is running thin. “Why?”

“You might wanna sit down for this,” she simply answers, while Cas steps toward Jason, bending down to retrieve his tunic and handing it to him. The boy takes it with shaky hands, on his guards, and quickly dresses himself.

“We won’t harm you,” Castiel tells him. Jason gives him a dubious look. “I’m assuming Gabriel lost his temper,” he adds, “it won’t happen again.” He pulls Jason to his feet, pushing him toward the couch, “Please, sit.”

Deliberately, Gabriel stays right where he is, retrieving the glass of whiskey he abandoned earlier. “I don’t have time for your games, Castiel,” he sighs, bringing the glass to his lips.  

Meg takes a breath, waiting until Cas is sitting next to Jason to let herself fall next to him. “Dean left,” she says, and Gabriel sees Castiel stare at him with dread. “Or he tried to, at least. The demons have him.”

Jason ducks his head.

In a second, Gabriel’s resolve crumbles, the careful mask of authority that he’s been trying to build for two hours breaking with her words. “What?” He puts the glass down without looking. In his haste, the tumbler almost slips to the floor before he catches it and pushes it as far from the edge as possible. “H-How?”

“Gregory said you two had a fight,” Meg says, shrugging, “and Dean wouldn’t listen to him, kept saying he wanted to bail. So Gregory lent him some clothes, and Dean tried to walk out by the front door.”

It takes a minute for what she’s saying to sink in. Gabriel shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around it. “He did what? How… I didn’t—“

“Calm down,” Castiel says, sharp gaze following Gabriel’s moves as he starts pacing, “Gregory went to see if he could find, huh, ‘Val’.”

“Yeah,” Meg adds, “being the official party whore and everything. He says he can maybe find out where Val’s hiding. They took Dean to him, apparently.”

Taking a breath, Gabriel stops moving. Feelings, again, aren’t helping his brain to function properly. But if something happens to Dean, there’s no way he can find an excuse for it. It’ll be his fault, all of it.

“You…” he starts, stops, then tries again. “How do you know all this?” Meg and Castiel both open their mouth at the same time, “One at a time, in chronological order, if possible,” he adds. “Meg.”

“Yes, Sir,” she sighs. Jason is looking at her like she grew another head. “So, I went to Gregory, okay?” Gabriel nods. “He explains what happened with Dean, that Dean tried to call someone at your place, couldn’t reach them—”

“Sam left with a few of the others,” Cas interjects, like he wants to be helpful. He’s not.

“Wha—“ Gabriel frowns, then stops himself. “Wait your turn, Cas. I… Heavens!” He can’t focus, his mind like a needle stuck on a record, Dean being the only thing he can think about now. He’ll worry about Sam later, “Meg, you were saying?”

“So, Dean told Greg he wanted to leave,” Meg goes on, as if she was never interrupted. “Greg tried to talk him out of it, but Dean wouldn’t have it. Greg says he’s heartbroken. Wonder why.” She glances at Jason, eyes pointedly travelling from him to Gabriel.

“You’ll lecture me later,” Gabriel says, annoyed. “Then what happened?”

“Dean left. And Greg didn’t know more about it, said he promised Dean he’d wait a little while before coming to tell you,” Meg says. “So I went downstairs, to the Slave Quarters. I figured, maybe someone saw something, you know? I mean, people don’t notice slaves, it’s like we’re part of the décor or something…”

“Meg…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she raises a hand, to ask for his patience, maybe. “Anyway, let me tell you that if blowjobs were an Olympic sport, I would get the gold medal, no contest.”

“I wish you weren’t proud of that,” Castiel chastises her.

She shrugs. Gabriel is two seconds away from strangling her. “So that guy, I don’t know his name, he’s a cook, right? He’s friends with a girl who’s supervising everything that has to do with laundry work,” Meg continues. “He says he saw her and our little pal over there,” she points to Jason with her thumb, “go out the back with one of the handlers.” Jason seems to sink on himself even further. “Which he found kind of odd, because when she came back she loudly announced to everyone that her and her long time fiancé were getting married.”

Castiel frowns, bewildered. “What does it have to do with Dean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Meg says. “But, you know, slaves getting married in these kinds of establishments? Takes either a Master who likes you a lot and wants you to be happy…”

“Which doesn’t seem to be the case, here,” Cas comments.

“Or,” Meg smiles at him, “a sharp eye, some ratting skills and an ability to forget what a conscience is for once you’ve sold a few people to your Masters,” she finishes.

Slowly, Gabriel starts to understand where she’s going. “You think she was spying on Dean, told Val he was leaving?”

She shrugs. “The guy I blew told me she introduced him and his group of friends to Dean once. He said they seemed ‘chummy’ and that she ‘liked to befriend any idiot who walked around looking a bit lost’. His words.”

Gabriel’s eyes land on Jason, who looks up from under his eyelashes, cowering on himself, because he knows it’s his turn to be interrogated next. “You know something,” Gabriel tells him. “Speak.”

Jason jumps from his seat but Castiel is faster than him. He holds him back, pushing him on the couch like he weights nothing. “Gabriel asked you a question,” Castiel says. “Please answer him before we decide if we let you go or not.”

Oh, Gabriel is not letting him go. Not ever, if he can help it. “Start talking, now,” he orders.

Jason hesitates, then straightens up, expression turning hard and cold. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. I had to do what they told me!”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “What did they promise you?”

“That I’ll be released once I’m done,” Jason answers. “And I know what you’re thinking, okay? I know they’re demons and they can’t be trusted but it was the only way to stay alive! You don’t wanna know what they did to the others…”

“The others,” Gabriel asks.

“The other people they kidnapped,” Jason answers with an angry look, “they took us when we were far from home, shoved us together into a container and shipped us here.” And now he’s shaking with quiet rage. “Lots of us died on the way here. The others they killed if they were too weak or useless.” He makes sure to stare into Gabriel’s eyes before continuing, “I had _no_ choice.”

“We can get you out,” Castiel says, and Jason focuses on him, “if you help us. We’ll take you out of here and deliver you safely to your family.”

Gabriel keeps his mouth tightly shut, but tries to convey all the good he thinks of this plan to Castiel. They don’t know Jason, they don’t know if what he says is true, or if it’s part of the demons’ plan to… do what exactly? What good does it do them to fuck with angels?

Jason’s eyes narrow. “Why should I believe you?”

“Why should we believe _you_ ,” Gabriel retorts. Jason’s angry gaze lands on him. “You seemed very happy to play along, so why should we trust anything you say?”

“You think I liked it?” Jason scoffs with disdain. “They asked me to ‘distract’ you, and they were very clear on how I was supposed to do it,” he sneers, a flicker of disgust on his face, there and gone in a second, “I only did what I was told.”

Gabriel ignores the pang of hurt in his chest. He holds Jason’s stare, trying to keep his ground.

“We’re trying to frame Alastair,” Castiel says to cut through the heavy silence. “And Dean is our friend. We want to find him before he gets hurt.”

Silence grows between them as Castiel takes on his patient face, and Gabriel tries to keep his mouth shut. Jason keeps silent, for what feels like an eternity, before he looks up at Gabriel. “You really can get me home?”

“We can,” Castiel says.

“We can try,” Gabriel adds. Jason straightens up, interested, now. “Can’t make any promises, but if we make it back home then, sure, I can help you. Provided you pull your weight.”

“If you can promise you won’t touch me again,” Jason shoots back, cockiness coming back now that he’s almost sure they won’t do anything to him, “I will.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, “As long as you don’t fling yourself at me, I won’t.”

Posturing will definitely not help Jason see him in a new light and help them, but Gabriel does anyway, chest puffing almost against his will and chin rising as he gives the boy one last pointed look.

“Okay,” Meg exhales, clasping her hands on her thighs, “now that that’s settled, you can all put your dicks back in your pants, and we can go find Dean.” She stands up, “Jason?”

The boy sighs, glancing toward Gabriel, who stands his ground. Showing weakness now would be… ill-advised. Or at least he thinks so. Castiel isn’t on his side anymore, Meg was always on Castiel’s, so his only hope is Jason. Only hope to what, though, he can’t really say. He wants so many things, for Michael, for Dean, for his slav—No. Not his slaves, his charges. He wants things for them that he thought this whole expedition was going to get him, but now all his hopes have crumbled under him, and all he can do is let things happen and see where it leads him.

If he can find only a little bit of proof against Lucifer, he’ll be happy. His first goal is to set Michael free. Things will surely untangle themselves after that.

“Valaach,” Jason says. “He has Dean. He was gonna bring him to his boss.”

Gabriel’s heart sinks into his stomach. “To Alastair?” He can’t show how bad it makes him feel, how his guts seem to shrink on themselves. Ugh. Human bodies…

Jason nods. “I can find out where they’re keeping him. I think.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Meg agrees. “I’ll help.”

Gabriel closes his eyes, all strengths focused on keeping his arms wrapped around each other and his fingers from rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “This is…” he opens his eyes again, “not a very good plan.”

“Only one we’ve got so far,” Meg shrugs.

At that, Gabriel’s arms seem to take on a life of their own and decide to just fling themselves in the air. Great way to express his incredulity, he has to give them that. “We can’t just…” he exclaims, “go in, get Dean, and get out. That’s insane!”

“It’s exactly what you did last time,” Meg counters, and Jason’s eyes dart between them both, a small frown on his brow, face clearly screaming _what the fuck_ , or at least that’s what Gabriel imagines. “And it worked.”

“Last time I was working against my brother,” Gabriel answers, looking away from her, Jason and their distracting faces, “I knew what I was doing.”

“Did you, now?”

Her tone is clearly mocking, and he makes a point of not looking at her. He really doesn’t need to see the expression on her face, see the smugness that reminds him of Dean. Dean who’s locked up somewhere at the mercy of demons who were very open about what they wanted to do to him if given the chance.

“We don’t have time for this,” he finally says. “We need to think of something. Something more! We can’t risk Dean’s life.” He stares at the three of them. “They’re demons. Who knows what they’ll do to him?”

“I think we all know what they’ll do…”

“Meg,” Castiel sighs, “please.”

“No,” Meg counters, “We all know what’s going to happen, what’s probably happening to him _now_ ,” she rages. Her cool façade is breaking down, and Gabriel doesn’t know if he should be grateful or not. She has a tendency to keep herself together that could be useful in times like this. “So we should get going already!”

“You’re right,” Gabriel says, and Cas and Meg look at him like he grew another head. “You’re right, I know, but we can’t risk ourselves as well,” he tries to explain. “If we fail, nobody’s going to come and get us. And we’d all be…” he lets his sentence hang, mostly because he doesn’t know how to end it.

Dead? Surely not. Demons are much more resourceful than this. There’s no good way to end his train of thought, really.

“It can’t be that bad,” Jason pipes in. “What could they do? Don’t you have an angel police or something?”

Sometimes it’s hard for Gabriel to understand the difference between free humans and slaves, but it’s things like this that remind him that there’s a world of lies between what free people know and the truth of things.

“If they can kidnap humans and enslave them illegally, I’m sure you can imagine they don’t give much credit to our ‘angel police’,” Castiel answers.

“Right,” Jason says, rubbing the back of his neck. Heavens, is there’s nothing he doesn’t do like Dean? “So what do we do?”

“We think,” Gabriel says, trying to hide the fear in his voice. “You and Meg, you go see if you can find Dean.” Meg nods, even though the turn of her lips tells Gabriel she doesn’t entirely agree. “In the meantime, Castiel and I will try to… come up with a better plan.”

“So we do the dirty work while you sit here and wait for us,” Meg says.

She’s sort of right, but Gabriel is too angry and too scared to admit it just now, “What else can we do?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “you could go find your pal Val, ask him about it.”

Gabriel scoffs, “You think he’d tell me?”

“At least you’d do something other than sit on your ass—“

“I don’t sit on my ass!”

“--while you send people to do your job!”

“Be careful how you speak to me!”

“Or what? There’s nothing you can do to me, you freed me, remember, Mister Big Shot Archangel?!”

“Enough!” Castiel shoots. He waits before they’re all looking at him, stunned into silence, to keep speaking at a more reasonable volume. “You’re both scared, I understand, believe me, I do. But now’s not the time to fight!” He straightens up, and suddenly, even without his Grace, Gabriel is reminded that this is his brother, one of his most trusted lieutenants. A very fine Seraph, indeed. “So apologize to each other, and let’s move. We’re running out of time!”

Meg deflates, blinking at Castiel, before she turns to Gabriel with a sigh, “He’s right. I’m sorry.”

All eyes are on Gabriel, now, and it takes him a second to understand what they’re all waiting for. It takes all of his willpower not to roll his eyes as he unclenches his jaw. “Yes. I’m sorry, Meg,” he tells her, trying to sound sincere, before he looks at Cas, “so what now?”

Castiel tenses, whole body coming alive under the force of what looks like righteous anger. “Now we stop pretending. And we fight.”


	11. Heaven Is a Place On Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in the end notes

# CHAPTER 11: Heaven Is a Place On Earth

 

After almost twelve hours on the road, stopping only for bathroom breaks, Sam’s glad to finally be stepping out of the car and onto the pavement of a little inconspicuous street in Flagstaff, Arizona.

Bobby, Charlie and Victor joined him as he’s been digging up Ruby’s past for three days, and all they came up with was this address. Supposedly, it’s where she lived. The landlord only told Sam that she wasn’t here much, but she always paid a year in advance and had never missed a payment in the three years she rented the space.

Doesn’t take a genius to see that she wasn’t really living there, and that she only used that address as a drop.

With a sigh, Sam steps inside the building. The others follow, bickering about who gets to sit shotgun when they leave. Sam ignores them.

The first thing he notices when he enters the one-bedroom apartment is the smell of old dust. Nobody’s been living here in, Sam guesses, at least three months, which is the amount of time that passed since Lucifer died, but he suspects it’s longer than that.

“Great,” Charlie comments, looking around as Victor closes the door behind them. “How’re we supposed to find anything in this mess?”

She’s right. The place is filled with boxes, documents and books. Sam has a feeling they’re going to be spending a lot of time here. “We… do our best,” he answers. “One thing at a time.”

Charlie throws her hands in the air. “Fine. I’m taking the bedroom.”

 “I’m coming with,” Bobby grunts, and Charlie makes a face.

“I’m not going to take a nap, if that’s what you think,” she says.

Bobby pushes her toward the bedroom door as an answer. Looking around, Sam sighs again. Victor takes a few steps around, and stops next to him.

“Where do we start?”

“I… have no idea,” Sam answers.

Nonetheless, he chooses a box at random, and walks to it. Victor does the same thing, and they start digging.

It takes them all afternoon, and a good portion of the evening to go through the major part of the apartment. Charlie even dug through the bathroom, without success. After that, she decides she’s had enough of the mess and the smell of mold, and starts cleaning the whole place as if her life depended on it. Victor starts helping her as night falls, and now they’re all sitting in the mostly clean living room, on the floor, eating take-outs like it’s a thing they do every other day.

“This is probably not the only place she’s renting,” Bobby says.

It all sounds reasonable, and it’s pissing Sam off all the more. “I know.”

“Come on, Kid,” Bobby insists. “We knew it wasn’t gonna be easy. Y’not gonna throw in the towel after just a couple o’days, are you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then stop lookin’ like someone pissed in your cornflakes.”  

The remark pulls an ungraceful laugh out of Charlie, who’s tries to hide her mouthful of burrito behind her hand. “Bobby’s right,” she manages when she finally swallows down her food. “We just need to wrap our heads around…” she looks around, “all of this.”

Sam just hums as an answer, looking down at his lap, his sad little salad sitting unappetizingly in front of him, next to the notebook that he found in Ruby’s things.

She just loved that notebook. She was constantly writing in it when she was with him, and to find it here, only half-full, strikes him as odd, at the very least. He’s been through it quickly, and besides some notes for her articles, including the notes she took to write that piece of shit article about Dean, there wasn’t much to be found.

Yet, something inside him tells him he should hang on to it. She took that thing _everywhere_. There has to be something in it. He’ll take a closer look at it later, if they don’t find anything else.

A nudge from Charlie brings him back to the present.

He blinks at her, trying for a smile.

She raises an eyebrow at him, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

She hums, not entirely satisfied, but lets it slide. She turns to the others, asking to take a bite from Victor’s taco, and Sam allows himself to tune them out, again.

The worry that’s been plaguing him ever since Dean left for Vegas has been increasing steadily now for a couple of days, and his heart seem to shrink in size every time he thinks about it. Cas and Meg have joined Gabriel and Dean, though, and they haven’t reported back, which probably means everything’s fine for now.

Jess still isn’t talking to him, and that’s fine, too. She’ll come around, eventually. He understands, truly, what she must feel, what it must look like, but he wishes she’d understand that he needs to do this. Find Ruby, find out what she knew, put it all behind him, to start a new life.

Whether it’ll be with Jess or not, it will all depend on Dean.

Sam knows Dean wants to leave after his mission with Gabriel is done, but for the first time in his life, he isn’t sure he’s ready to follow his brother on this. He has something here, something good. It’s precarious these days, fragile, but it’s something nonetheless, and the more he stays with these people, the more he wants to fight to keep them around.

He wants to stay.

But for now, he has other priorities. Finding Ruby has to come first, so hopefully when he does, the thing that’s trapped his heart and consumes all his thoughts these days will disappear.

The notebook sits heavy on his thigh. He opens it again, without really thinking about it. The last page, full of scribbles and dates, seems to be mocking him with information that doesn’t mean shit to anyone, except Ruby.

_Experiment, Hell, maybe they think it’s funny, Paradise, Nothing (srsly is it a pun), Spread Eagle (??)  
GAMINVAZWI_

Under that weird little word are more dates and notes from Ruby, like a running commentary of things Sam doesn’t understand.

He could cry from the sheer frustration, if he allowed himself.

Thankfully, the sudden ringing of his burner phone breaks the quiet, catching him just as his eyes start to water. For a second he’s grateful to whoever is on the other end of the line, until he remembers he only gave this number to Jess and Lisa as a last resort emergency contact.

He fumbles for his phone, notebook dropping in his lap, forgotten. Victor, Bobby and Charlie are silent, their apprehension clear in their eyes, as Sam answers the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Sam_ ,” Castiel’s stern voice answers through the speakers.

Confusion is the first thing Sam feels, because how did Cas find this number? But he quickly remembers that Castiel is with Dean and if he’s calling, then something happened.

“What happened,” Sam almost barks, heart beating a million miles a minute.

“ _Well, hello to you too, Sunshine_ ,” Meg drawls.

Her voice is tight, controlled in a way that it never usually is. Sam’s whole body locks up with anxiety. He needsa headcount, to know that they’re all… there. Okay.

His mouth barely opens, but he has to ask, “Gabriel?”

“ _I’m here, Kiddo_ ,” the archangel answers, voice coming from farther away than Cas’s or Meg’s.  

Subdued. Not good.

“Dean?” Silence, and the cold, bitter taste of fear settles in Sam’s throat. “Where’s Dean?”

“ _That’s what we’re calling about_ ,” Cas answers with an audible sigh.

“Where’s my brother?!”

Charlie, Victor and Bobby are all staring at him, now, probably trying to decipher what’s being said, meal forgotten on the ugly linoleum.

“ _He’s been taken_ ,” comes Gabriel’s voice on the other end of the line. “ _Alastair has him_.” Then, like an afterthought, “ _I’m sorry, Sam.”_

There’s no word to describe the feeling you get when you lose someone you love. When you’re almost sure you just lost someone. It’s like Sam’s soul is trying to exit his body, only held back by a thread, something intangible keeping that last piece of himself hanging by the back of his brain. His vision blurs, and for a second he forgets everything, where he is, who he’s talking to, who he’s with.

His sole focus is on Dean. Dean is gone. The demons have him.

His world shifts, suddenly, the words stuck in the back of his throat swallowed inwards, piercing his heart with cold grief that clogs his insides until it boils, burning, burning everything inside him and turning into a deep, furious anger.

All directed at one person. One angel, really.

“I’m going to kill you,” he grunts into the phone. The steadiness of his voice surprises him. “You hear me, Gabriel? Whatever shitty excuse you find, this time, when this is all over, I will kill you.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Silence falls on them all as Sam hangs up brutally, and Gabriel allows himself a sigh, something akin to defeat already rising like bile up his throat. Meg and Cas exchange a glance that Gabriel doesn’t even try to understand. Sam’s words ring in his ears.

 _I will kill you_.

“That went well…” Meg comments.

Gabriel snaps. A sound like a roar rises up his throat, “Shut up!”

He’s not so stupid as to believe that this conversation was going to go well, but Sam managed to surprise him, nonetheless.

Meg’s shoulders draw up, tight with tension, “Hey, don’t take this it out on me! You’re the one who fucked up!”

It’s all she has to say to have Gabriel stand up, calm but deadly so, the threat so clear in his eyes as he stares at her that Castiel stands, too, putting himself between them both.

“Gabriel,” he growls.

A warning.

Gabriel pushes past him, just slightly, just enough that he can whisper and look Meg in the eye. “Don’t forget that I’m the one who took you out of the miserable hell you called a life,” he spits at her, low. “I can just as easily throw you back in.”

He can’t stand her sarcasm anymore. He knows it’s her way to cope, but he’s just about to rip her fucking head off if she utters another word.

Meg visibly blanches, swallowing the remark she almost bit out. Cas’s hand on Gabriel’s shoulder is cold, and he tries to push Gabriel, but without his Grace his strength is one of a lesser angel, at best, and there’s nothing he can do against an archangel.

“Take it back,” he says, and Gabiel can see the thret in his eyes, in his stance. “You don’t mean it.” A plea wrapped in menacing anger, all rolled into one little sentence. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Gabriel’s eyes find Castiel’s. He’s looking back with righteous fury, searching Gabriel’s face for a tear, a sign that would justify all this.

But even Gabriel cannot justify the outburst. All he knows is he means it with all his heart, and he’s tired, and he’s scared, and in this moment he feels so, so very alone. “I’ll do it if she opens her mouth again.”

Taking a step back, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if Castiel keeps his hands on him so he shrugs it off as he does, he straightens up. “You’d all do well to remember who I am.” No. _Not right_. “What I am. You all speak to me like I’m a bug on the sole of your shoe, but you, Castiel, you were there, since the beginning of all this… this fucking _nightmare_!” He takes a breath he doesn’t need, but he likes the way it emphasizes his point. “And you did nothing! But I’m the monster?” A strange, scary laugh escapes his throat, “Fuck you, Castiel! You hear me? Fuck you!”

What else can he do after that outburst, beside turn his back and walk away? But Castiel is quicker, probably less confused than Gabriel and just as angry. He grabs Gabriel’s wrist, forcefully, and Gabriel lets his body go with the movement.

“You’re not leaving,” Castiel grunts. “We need to stick together!”

“Let him go,” Meg says, voice wavering, “he doesn’t give a shit.”

And now Gabriel has to close his eyes, because he can’t lose it again, and he can’t move away, and he can’t yell, or cry. So he freezes, allows himself a second to feel the desperation, the way his throat constricts under the weight of Meg’s and Castiel’s hate, how his tear ducts try to fill with water, how his stomach churns unpleasantly just thinking about Dean and what’s probably happening to him now.

He swallows everything down, _down, down, down_ , until the only thing flowing through his vessel’s veins is Grace, until he feels like an angel again. _A small, insignificant, lost angel_.

His place is not here. His place is… nowhere. Not on earth. Somehow, somewhere, he lost all his meaning, and now all that’s left to do is rescue one little human, and leave.

It would be for the best, wouldn’t it?

When he opens his eyes, Castiel is staring with his head tilted on the side, interrogation written all over his face. “I need to go talk to Val,” Gabriel says, carefully.

The muscles around Castiel’s eyes shift as he squints. “You’re not leaving us, are you?”

“I just need to talk to Val,” Gabriel repeats.

The ‘ _I need to get out of here for a little while’_ is unspoken, but he’s pretty sure Castiel gets it. His arm is released, and Cas takes a step back. “Don’t be gone too long,” is all he replies.

A small nod, and Gabriel is on his way to the door again, feet carrying him outside like they have a mind of their own.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Waking up after having been drugged is never funny.

Dean’s kind of bugged that he knows the feeling, and very well at that, to recognize it as soon as he comes back to consciousness, milliseconds before he remembers his own name.

It was probably in the water they gave him before they tied him up, he muses. Roofies, most likely, judging by the salty left-over taste in his mouth.

 _He’s strapped to a cold metal slab,_ is the next thing he notices. Arms are secured next to his hips, his ankles are tied, too, and there’s something like a leather belt around his neck, so tight he’s pretty sure that if he tries to move he’ll strangle himself. Opening his eyes is not an option, for now, not when he doesn’t know where he is, and who he’s with.

He can feel goosebumps running up his arms, only now becoming aware of the cold rushes of air coming from all around, tingling his skin. All of his skin. He’s naked, and really, it shouldn’t surprise him, but it still does. _Great_.

 There’s no noise, but the silence seems to echo all around him. A big place, then. Probably nowhere near the hotel anymore.

A sly, uneasy fear creeps up his spine. Does Gabriel know? Does Castiel? Meg? Surely, by now, if Dean’s been drugged, moved, and had the time to wake up from it naturally, then enough time has passed that they noticed. That Gregory said something.

He could pray, tell Gabriel something happened. But what good would it serve? He doesn’t know where he is, and, besides, if he’s in this situation it’s mostly because of the archangel, and it doesn’t do shit to help forget that he’s angry at Gabriel. He doesn’t _want_ to pray to him, not now.

He’ll just… wait. Until he can say something useful. _Sounds about right. The right thing to do_.

“Dean,” Alastair says, right above Dean’s head, voice syrupy, dripping with irony. “You can stop pretending, I know you’re awake.”

Ignoring the whole body shiver that runs through him at the words, Dean blinks, eyes trying to adjust to the light just above piercing his retinas, and the darkness surrounding it. Alastair’s face comes into focus, his little pleased smile doing all sorts of unpleasant things to Dean’s stomach.

“I’m so glad you could join us,” Alastair goes on, stepping aside. One of his hand trails from Dean’s cheek to his chest. Dean stays very, very still. “I didn’t have any plan for you, not until later but… you kind of threw yourself into that one, didn’t you?”

If there was ever a time to use Dean’s ability to rile people up and make them talk to gain a bit of time, it would be now.

“Where are we,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Alastair raises an eyebrow and the slab tips, until Dean’s half laying down, half standing. The restraint around his neck pushes against his Adam’s apple, against the collar already circling his throat, making it hard to breathe.

“Welcome to paradise,” the demon answers, arms opening to wave around him, showing off the small warehouse they’re in. _A warehouse, of course_. “My own little slice of Heaven.”

Dean actually takes a look around, because he’s not sure if he’ll have other occasions. First thing he looks for is an exit. One door to the left, very far away. He won’t be able to make a run for it unless they leave him alone, which he doubts. No window, or at least none that he can see. The warehouse is packed with crates on one side, leaving only a small empty space for the door, and a semi-truck parked on the other. He can’t look behind him, and his view of the front is obscured by Alastair, and the bright light from a lamp, just behind his head. There seem to be plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling, a few feet away, but Dean can’t be sure.

His head is fuzzy, a slight headache pulsing behind his eyes. Thinking is making it worse.

“Awesome,” Dean says, finally, for lack of something better to say.

Alastair ignores him, of course, walking around the slab, and disappearing behind it. Dean’s heart is trying to jump out of his chest as he tries to see what’s happening. When Alastair reappears, he’s pulling a tray with him, the noise of its wheels echoing with a sad little squeak.

“A welcome gift,” Alastair says, eyeing the way Dean is staring at all the instruments on the tray with interest.

“Great,” Dean huffs. There are syringes, bottles of things he can’t identify, plyers, a knife, scalpels, a speculum, _fuck his life_ , and other sharp objects that he’s sure he’ll get acquainted with very soon, and somehow he’s not very eager to start. “What’s the occasion?”

Because, of course, his mouth has to run without his consent when he’s fucking stressed. He can’t be too angry at himself, though, seeing as he’s strapped to a friggin’ table and shit.

Alastair just runs his tongue on his lips, like a good little psychopath, and picks up the bronze knife.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Your little pet isn’t here anymore, I’m afraid,” Val says, all elegant nonchalance as he takes a sip of wine.

All Gabriel wants to do is slap the drink away from his hand, but he manages to contain himself at the last second.

“Then please,” he answers, voice tight, “tell me where he is so that I can go get him and leave.”

Val lets out a little laugh and shakes his head, “I’m afraid it’s not so simple, my friend.” Indicating the seat in front of him, he raises an eyebrow, “Please.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Gabriel angrily snaps.

Val’s expression turns serious, and he leans back in his seat. “My dear Gabriel, let me explain something to you.” He hails a waiter, who comes running with a new glass and a bottle of red wine, setting it all up where Val told Gabriel to sit. “You’re not here on a vacation,” Val goes on. “Nor are you here to talk business. We both know it. There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me tell you anything, because we have the upper hand, and you’re just a poor little angel who lost his toy.” He brings his own glass to his mouth, a sly little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So when I tell you to sit, what do you do?”

There’s only one measly human, a waiter, in the little alcove with them, the balcony they’re in far above the Red Room, where the show is reaching its end. Which means not a lot of customers are left, and Gabriel is more than tempted to smite the demon right here and now. _But Dean_ , his mind supplies, helpfully.

Anger pulses dully inside him, still at bay, for now.

So, without a single word, he pulls a chair back, and sits. _He can do this_.

“Good boy,” Val coos before emptying his drink.

“You have no idea,” Gabriel answers, ignoring the flush of shame bursting up his spine, “all the things I could do to you…”

“Ah, I think I do,” Val says. “But I don’t think your precious Council would appreciate them.” The waiter comes again, filling his glass, before bowing and stepping away. “They sent you here, didn’t they? Or maybe you asked to be sent here.”

Gabriel doesn’t move an inch, even though his heart does a little back flip inside his chest at the words. “The Council doesn’t have anything to do with this.” Then, with what he hopes is conviction, and mustering as much calm as he can, he asks again, “Where’s Dean?”

“After everything… you know, I’m starting to think that it’s true, what they say about you.” The demon holds his gaze, waiting, taunting him. “You didn’t kill Lucifer. Someone else did. Was it Dean?”

“I won’t play your game,” Gabriel says. But of course, it’s not as easy. There’s a truth to Val’s words that scares Gabriel to death. If he knows this, then what else does he know? “Where is Dean,” he repeats.

This whole charade is quickly starting to get on his nerves. Heaven knows what they’re doing to Dean right now. He could imagine what they’re probably doing, of course, having witnessed a lot of it these last couple of weeks, but he doesn’t want to. He’s scared how much it frightens him will show on his face.

“Or I heard there was another angel with you…” Val keeps going, ignoring him. “I don’t see you hurting anyone, to be honest. You were barely able to _pretend_ to punish your boy, after all—“

“Where is Dean?!”

Val’s first answer is a chuckle. “Come, now. You, angels. You have no sense of humor…” His smile his shark like, and his pained sigh is clearly fake. “I’m afraid Dean is… not with us anymore. You could say he’s in a better place.”

“My patience is growing thin,” Gabriel growls, heart hammering frantically against his ribcage as he purposefully ignores how Val chose to turn his sentence. “Your little game has lasted long enough. Give him back. He’s mine!”

“Not anymore,” Val shoots back.

Gabriel straightens up, trying to appear as menacing as he can, “What did you do with him?”

The demon sighs, “See, you’re asking the wrong question.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer.

“You should ask me what he did, first,” Val goes on. “Unless you know about it, already…”

“I just lost track of him for an hour,” Gabriel counters, “it’s certainly not a punishable crime. Not punishable by you, at least.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Val says, waving a finger in the air like he’s a teacher about to give his least favorite student a lesson. “You know the rules, here, don’t you? You signed the terms and agreement when you first arrived.”

He pauses, sick smile splitting his face almost in half. Gabriel doesn’t let his face react, but his body temperature rises minutely, heart pumping faster, sending blood flowing to his extremities.

“The number one rule is, each slave has to wear the appropriate garments provided by the hotel,” Val continues. “And your boy was found wearing human clothing, in the middle of the lobby, where everybody could see. What would people think of us if we let that pass, hm?”

Blood reaches behind Gabriel’s eyelids, pulsing hard against them until the hint of a headache makes itself known. “You can’t keep him for something so small.”

Sitting back with a smirk, Val raises an eyebrow, “Of course we can. It’s in the rules. And you signed them.”

“I don’t care about your stupid rules,” Gabriel grunts, standing up, pushing his chair back in the process. The feet of it catch in the plush carpeted floor and it falls without making a sound. Which kind of ruins the effect. “Give me Dean back!”  

The demon eyes the chair, amused. “I’m afraid the contract you signed is iron clad. There’s nothing you can do.” He stands as well, bringing his half empty glass of wine to his mouth, before finishing it and putting it down. “Dean is ours, for the time being, until we decide he’s been properly punished. And with the mouth he has, well,” he smirks again as he steps aside, “it might take a long while.”

With that, he strolls away, leaving Gabriel standing, mouth open like a stupid gaping fish. He stops at the door, raising a hand like he just had a thought, and looks back at Gabriel. “By the way, I’m obligated to tell you that, provided the punishment turns out to be too much and your human dies… you can’t hold us responsible.”

Gabriel starts opening his mouth to protest, but Val doesn’t give him time. “Of course, you know all this, since you read the terms before signing them. Right?”

And with a laugh, he disappears through the door.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After that, Gabriel enters a strange state of cold dread, where he can barely concentrate on anything. He talks when he gets to his room, just to get it out, to tell someone what Val said. But then, when he’s done, he’s silent.

He keeps silent when Cas calls Sam from his hotel room phone, even though he wants to say that it’s probably tapped and they shouldn’t even think of calling anyone, let alone plan a rescue using this phone. But he doesn’t say it. Not that he doesn’t care, of course. He cares. It’s all he can do, care, for what will happen to Dean. For what will happen to him, and his charges, and his friends.

But caring can only take him so far, and it sure as Hell won’t help anybody. So he keeps his mouth shut, keeps his poisonous, insidiously pungent thoughts to himself, and he just sits there, while Cas asks Sam where he is, and Sam says he’s close to Vegas, he’ll be there soon, and then _he’ll kick some archangel’s ass_.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t protest when they’re about to leave to rent a motel room for Sam and the others with him, some place far from the hotel where they can regroup. He says nothing when Jason, who’s been sitting silently in a corner of the couch ever since Gabriel came back suddenly straightens up and say he’ll come with them. Fortunately, there’s still some sense left into Cas’s brain, and he tells the boy he can’t accompany them. Of course, he can’t. Val knows who they are, what they’re doing here, now Gabriel is sure of it. If they take Jason with them, or if they just try, they might not leave the building ever again.

It’s safest if Jason stays, Meg agrees. All he has to do is wait for them here, in this room, he’ll be safe, there’s pay per view, food, and alcohol, really, he shouldn’t even think about complaining.

And so it is decided. They run into Gregory on their way out. He tells them what they already know. Alastair left. Gregory’s still booked for a few of the private parties, but all the major players they’ve encountered won’t be there. Cas thanks him, tell him to take care, and keep to his own business, before they exit the Hotel.

 Gabriel follows, without a word, as they get out into the late Vegas night, him, Meg and Castiel. Everything’s still lit up like it’s the Fourth of July out there, and any other day, Gabriel might have enjoyed the ambiance. Prostitutes are out and about, trying to hail them. Meg smiles at them and rebukes every attempt with a witty retort or a nice compliment. She looks so out of place, in her white tunic, that for the first time in about an hour, Gabriel feels his vocal chords constrict, vibrating, and a simple sentence escapes his throat before he can catch it.

“You should change.” Is all he says.

He berates himself, after that. In his own mind, of course. He should keep his mouth shut. He shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t even be allowed to have a voice, after all the shit he put them through.

But Meg agrees, yes. If anybody important sees her, they might get arrested. Held back.

They find a small, tasteless clothes shop still open, the words ‘OPEN 24/7’ written with tight fluorescent tubes blinking without a definite rhythm above the front door. Castiel buys her a dress that she quickly puts on between two high buildings in a smelly alleyway, while Cas and Gabriel stand guard. Castiel laments that they weren’t selling any underwear in the shop. She laughs and says she doesn’t mind. It’s nice to feel the breeze, she says. _Hot as balls out here_. Castiel should try it, too, sometime, she suggests with a wink. Castiel smiles with his eyes only, and answers, in a very serious voice, that walking around in a trenchcoat with no pants on would probably get them arrested, even in a city like Las Vegas. But maybe another time.

Meg’s high giggle seems to echo in Gabriel’s bones, a shrilling wave of goosebumps going up his spine as he catches himself thinking, _we shouldn’t be laughing. We should be crying. Dean is probably dead by now_.  

They both exchange pleasantries, Meg and Cas, making Gabriel uncomfortable in more ways than one. If he wasn’t as preoccupied by his own failure, he would look more closely. It almost looks like flirting, from where he’s standing, but he barely notices it until his thoughts change course, and he’s focusing on Dean again. Dean, who’s Heaven knows where, undergoing countless nameless things under the clutch of Alastair.

The demon has an air of mystery about him that Gabriel truly doesn’t like. But Alastair’s only mysterious because Gabriel didn’t even try to look into him before he went diving into this trap hole. He’s been impatient, and proud, refusing to listen to Dean, and now where does that leave him? Alone in a sea of people, walking the streets of Las Vegas, trailing behind his friends like a sick dog.

Could he have ever imagined being in this situation, when this all started?

Obviously not. He was too sure of himself, too cocky. Now Dean’s trapped, Michael’s trapped, and neither of them will likely set eyes on the blue skies of Earth ever again, or so it seems.

His train of thought keeps him nicely shut out of the real world, at least until they find a little, unassuming motel on the outskirt of the city. They rent two rooms with double queens, and go wait in the first one. The air smells like artificial vanilla and dry wall. The vanilla bit is explained when Gabriel explores the bathroom, and the air-freshener blows a puff of vanilla-scented perfume at his face as he blankly pushes on the top.

There’s a forgotten bobby pin on the white porcelain sink, under a chipped mirror. He stares at the bobby pin, because otherwise he’d be staring at his reflection, and he’s scared he’ll punch a hole through the mirror and into the wall if he even tries.

Maybe that’s where the dry wall smell comes from.

Maybe someone else before him stood there, right where he’s standing, choking on self-loathing. Maybe that person couldn’t do anything but stare in the mirror. Maybe they hated what they saw as much as Gabriel hates himself right now. Provided they were human, then it must have been unbearable, the hate growing and growing and growing inside their chest, until it had to burst.

The mirror took the brunt of it, because that’s one of their uses. Seven years of bad luck, that’s what the humans believe. They don’t remember that it’s just because until not so long ago, mirrors were a rare thing. Seeing oneself was a novelty. It was believed that mirrors held the soul of the ones who looked into them, and they would come to believe the same about photography later on. So breaking mirrors broke the soul, of course. They don’t remember the seven year thing was because of the Romans. Or rather, because of their Gods. Most of them are dead, now that the angels took over. Silly humans.

But Gabriel isn’t human. Gabriel is a high ranked Archangel with a sense of decorum. So he stays in the bathroom for a little while, he stares at the bobby pin, and when he feels ready, when he’s in control again, he walks back into the room and sits on the bed.

When Sam arrives, with Charlie, Bobby and Victor in tow, he’s cold and contained, at least for the time being. So Gabriel makes the effort of looking into his eyes, and, with clinical precision, replays the whole conversation he had with Val, word for word.

Sam listens, becoming increasingly restless as the words leave Gabriel’s mouth. He asks what happened, why Dean left, and why wasn’t he with Gabriel? Gabriel shrugs. Meg and Cas try to salvage what they can by answering, omitting the worst bits.

Why should they? Gabriel wonders. He doesn’t deserve it, but they do it, anyway. They don’t talk about the fuck fights, or about the parties. They don’t even mention Jason by name. They don’t tell Sam that Gabriel fucked him to get back at Dean, and because he missed him. Because having sex with Dean the afternoon right before his night with Jason reminded him of what he had, and what he’ll never get back. Having Dean angrily pushing him on the bed, satisfying himself with Gabriel without an ounce of passion in his eyes hurt Gabriel so much that he got angry in turn, and his temper got the best of him.

Dean scoffs in his head as the thought crosses his mind. _Yeah, right_ , he seems to say. _You’re just an asshole, and you can’t even admit it to yourself._

Well, Gabriel’s not about to deny it now.

If only he could’ve found something, anything to save Michael, this whole mess wouldn’t have been for nothing. If only the Council wasn’t so obsessed by its own law. It’s stupid that they should try to be so neutral. There’s enough proof as it is. The state of Lucifer’s slaves should’ve been enough. The state of his District should’ve been enough. Nobody took over. And now, almost four months after the fact,  the humans, the people depending on an Archangel to survive and thrive aren’t even on the list of priorities for the Elohim.

 _A bunch of uptight assholes_. The thought flashes through him, almost piercing his vessel with the certainty that he’s right, that they’re a bunch of dried up prunes, holed up in their corner of Heaven. He’s slightly scared that they’ll sense the blasphemous nature of his thoughts for a moment. But it’s only the truth. They don’t know what’s happening down there. They have no idea.

What’s choking him isn’t self-loathing, he realizes with sudden clarity. It’s the tight clutch of Angelic Laws.

A spark of electric energy zaps up his spine. He straightens. His ears seem to clear, like cotton had been stuck through them and he’s only noticing now.

The first noise Gabriel hears as he slowly comes back to reality is the rambling of Castiel’s stomach. Then Sam sighs. “I guess we could eat and think at the same time…”

He seems reluctant, but Charlie perks up. “I want a burger!”

“Let’s go then,” Sam says, eyeing the room around him. There’s a small notebook in his right hand, and he keeps playing with it absent-mindedly, bouncing the spine against his hip. Finally, his eyes fall on Gabriel. “Come on.”

They quietly exit the room. The cogs in Gabriel’s borrowed brain start to turn at full speed again.

                                                                                                    

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean’s chest echoes with the force of the scream he’s barely holding in through gritted teeth.

Alastair steps away, looking down at his piece of art, tapping the tip of his bloody knife on his lower lip as he admires his work.

“Now, that’s a pretty ritual if I ever saw one,” he comments.

Dean tries to look down on himself, at the cuts running all along his body, in sometimes thin lines, sometimes thick ones, in swirling patterns and what looks like Enochian mixed in with them. Or is it Sumerian? It’s starting to look a lot like something Celtic, maybe, but Dean can’t be sure he’s understanding anything through the haze of pain. Sam would know for sure. Sam always knows.

 _Jesus!_ He’s one cut away from throwing up.

“ ‘ve seen kind—kindergart’ner do be’er than that,” he slurs.

He might be in pain, and a lot of it, but he has to keep his Dean Winchester wit going, or else he’s scared he might lose himself. Fall into a pit of flash-backs and nightmares. So far Alastair stayed clear of his ass and genitals, thank God for small mercies.

“A good ritual is like modern art, Dean,” Alastair chastises him, “It’s suggestive. Now hold still.”

He crouches down, faces inches from Dean’s dick. The tip of his bronze knife touches Dean’s right inner thigh, and he closes his eyes, bracing for the pain. Each cut is deep, and Alastair is taking his sweet time. Each time, he pushes the blade inside the flesh, and then drags it along with a flicker of wrist, in perfect patterns. Every single time, he goes agonizingly slow.

This time it’s a straight line he draws. Dean feels it through every nerve of his thigh, the pain reverberating through his whole body in a shiver, tumbling up his chest and throat and ends up as a scream that he tries to muffle with his teeth and mouth.

There’s a major artery somewhere in there, that he knows. He feels the blood trickle down his leg, cold sweat dripping from his brow as he wonders if this one’s gonna be the one that ends him.

“Don’t you faint on me now,” Alastair says in a gleeful little voice, “I’m almost done.”

“There’re fast’r ways t’kill a guy, y’know,” Dean answers, blinking tears from his eyes. One rolls down his cheek.

“Oh, but far from me the idea of killing you, my dear,” Alastair coos. “Of course not.” His fingers trail from the inside of Dean’s thigh to the juncture of his hip and leg. “I mean, I don’t want to disappoint you, but you’re more useful to me alive than dead.” He pauses, eyes travelling down Dean’s chest. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a little while.”

“ ‘w’some.” Dean huffs, trying not to wince as the tip of the blade comes close to his balls. But it just hovers there. Alastair is watching for his reaction, smirking. “If I’d known I’d ‘ave brought ya som’thin’.”

Straightening up, Alastair puts the blade down. “Oh, but you did!” His hand travels from the knife to the other instruments, stopping for a second above the speculum. When Dean’s eyes widen, Alastair lets out a little laugh, and steps away from the tray. “You have no idea, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the blood loss talkin’,” Dean says, as clearly as he can. He’s dizzy. “But no. I r’lly dunno what you’re talkin’ about…” Turning his head hurt, so he can’t really pretend he’s not watching Alastair’s every move. He’s too tired to try to pretend anything, anyway. “You just start carvin’ stuff into me, least you could do is explain why.”

He jumps when Alastair friggin’ _boops his nose_ and lets out a little happy ‘ah!’

“You’re starting to pay attention! Good!” Turning to the tray again, Alastair picks up the knife. “You don’t mind if I finish this while I explain?”

There’s really no reason to answer that, seeing as the demon is already coming back to Dean, ready to carve another line into Dean’s skin. The tip of the blade is pressing against Dean’s other thigh. Alastair looks up.

“Do you know why angels like you some much?” And he pushes it in.

Dean’s mind goes blank for a second as he grunts, jaws tightening under the strain of pain, whole body trying to push away from the table. “Dunno,” he manages, mouth barely opening. “M’charmin’ personality? My p—perky nipples?”

The blade slices effortlessly along Dean’s thigh, and with the pain, the fear and the stress, he can’t help the cry that rips out his throat. His body is wound up so tight he barely feels anything besides the throbbing pain of the cuts all over it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there’s a little voice angrily snapping at him. Dean can’t really make out what the voice is trying to say. Something about prayers. Something about calling for help. But calling who?

He’s alone in here. Alone with Alastair. And the demon is just getting started.  

_Just fucking tell him!_

“It probably helps,” Alastair laughs, “but no.”

Dean’s eyes roll back into his head for a second, and he blinks, trying to keep from fainting. He’s not far from it, he knows. His eyelids droop low, and keeping his eyes open is proving more and more difficult. Focusing on the pain helps, but barely. “’nlighten me,” he breathes. Because somehow he knows it’s important. He’ll figure out why later.

_Tell him!_

God, he’s losing it.

“Your soul, my dear boy,” Alastair pointedly says, shaking the blade in front of Dean’s eyes. “Your soul.”

“What ‘bout it?”

Alastair steps forward, until their bodies are almost flushed against one another, and places the tip of the knife right above Dean’s heart. The cuts around the spot seem to throb harder. Like a warning. “You can’t see it, but it’s very bright. Brighter than anything I’ve seen before.” And as he says it, Alastair licks his lips, eyes roaming along Dean’s chest. “That’s how you recognize a vessel, did you know that?”

Dean swallows as an answer, eyes fixed on Alastair’s face. He’s trembling, whole body vibrating with anticipation of what’s going to happen next. _Don’t let him touch me. Don’t let him touch me, please!_

“I had never come across an archangel’s vessel before,” Alastair goes on. He steps back. Dean lets out a relieved breath. “Did you know about it?”

It takes a couple of seconds before Dean understands what he means. Vessel? Right, yes. Michael said something, about how Dean was right for him. How he had vessels in his family? And Lucifer, the way he looked at Sam, there was something there, too.

His brain slowly, painfully tries to wrap his mind around the idea, tries to understand what Alastair’s saying. But the dizziness doesn’t help, and even though he knows that he’s losing his grip on reality because of the blood loss and the fear, he just can’t make himself snap out of it.

Vessels. Alastair’s talking about Dean. Dean’s the Archangel’s vessel. Kinda rings a bell. _He should tell him_. The Archangel.

“Yeah,” he finally lets out. “’n I don’ care.”

“Well, I do.” Alastair raises an eyebrow, face serious. “And so did Lucifer. We spent a great deal of time talking about vessels, he and I.”

The name ‘Lucifer’ runs through Dean’s brain like the white-hot current from a taser. The shock of it so sudden it makes him blink, sweat dripping from his eyelids, and the fog lifts from his vision for a blessed second.

“Good, you’re listening,” Alastair smiles. “Piqued your curiosity there, didn’t I? I guess I owe you that much.”

The cuts all over Dean’s body seem to throb harder, now, as Alastair puts the knife down again. Hopefully he won’t pick it up for another round. There’s almost no space left on Dean’s body anyway.

“You see, Lucifer had been banished into Hell, once. A long, long time ago,” Alastair starts his story, arms crossed in front of his chest. “And he made us, demons. All he wanted was to take his anger out on some poor, unsuspecting human souls, but he created something. A happy accident, you might say,” he smiles.

Dean can do nothing but listen, for now, but listen he does, intently, scared that he’ll lose consciousness at any moment.

“So when he got out of his Cage, naturally he sought us out,” Alastair goes on. With a sigh, he unfolds his arms, and walks to the tray again, making sure he’s facing Dean. “Anyway, we worked with him a lot these past centuries. Until the angels came to Earth, and, well…” he takes out a wooden bowl from under the tray, and a small crate full of jars and bottles. “Let’s say it became difficult to keep the relationship going.” Making a show of taking out a few jars, he eyes Dean from under his eyelashes. “We lost contact with him, after a while. But a few years ago, he contacted me…”

He looks so proud that Dean feels words bubbling up his throat, reading to take a jab at him. But they die right there, under the look the demon throws him as he pours some brownish powder into the bowl.

“Of course I wasn’t gonna work for free.”

“Of course,” Dean manages. It sounds hollow.

“So we traded. A few angel secrets for some discreet kills. He got to eliminate some people, and I got to experiment and play.” Alastair keeps mixing things as he speaks, herbs, bone dust, whatever, until the mixture puffs out just a small amount of smoke. “Ah,” he exclaims, looking up with a satisfied smile. “This has to brew for a little while, don’t worry. We still have a few hours of fun ahead of us.”

“’fore you kill me?”

Alastair tsks. “No, of course not.” He pauses, then, considering. “Or if you do die, it won’t be because I want it. But I believe I was telling a story.” He comes closer again. Dean feels his balls trying to crawl up his ass. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

The demon’s hand is cradling Dean’s jaws, and suddenly he’s so scared he can barely talk. It’s one thing to talk about demons, to fight demons, even, but being faced with so evil a creature without anything to defend himself is a whole other ballgame. He’s cold. He’s cold, because he forgot, in everything, that those were creatures. Not human assholes trying to do whatever for their own gains. Creatures born out of pain, and fear, and torture. Hell personified.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

He means it. Alastair smiles, and pats his cheek. “So, you’re a vessel,” he goes on, straightening up and away from Dean’s face. “You know demons can possess whoever they want, right?”

Dean nods, “Yeah.”

“Thought so,” Alastair smirks.

And the urgency at the back of Dean’s mind comes back, as his train of thought become more sluggish with every minute that passes. He should… say. Tell something. About the warehouse.

“But what you may not know is, keeping the same vessel for a long while demands a lot of effort. And trust me, we don’t like going after vessels. Once we find one that fits…” Alastair laughs, “I guess it’s like finding a nice pair of jeans. And I hate mending my clothes when they tear.”

“So what,” Dean huffs out, “you gunna… possess me?”

“You are too impatient, Dean. Yes, but!” He holds a finger up, eyes almost bulging from their sockets in excitement. He looks crazy. “If I possessed you as you are, I’d still have to be careful. You’d still break. Look at this poor fellow, for example,” he gestures at his face. “He looks okay, but this is just window dressing. Underneath, though…” he winces, and with a wave of his hand in front of his face, reveals the most horrifying thing Dean’s ever seen.

His face is almost caving in on itself, bits of flesh rotting, swinging from his cheeks and nose and mouth. One of his eyes has melted, and is only hanging on to his orbit by a nerve. The other looks deflated, like a sad little balloon. Pus is slowly dripping from his pores, and his smile, crooked and toothless, looks like the smile of a corpse.

In a second, the vision’s gone. Dean blinks. The fog is coming back. He needs to tell… someone. About this.

“I’ll need to change very soon,” Alastair says. “Sooner than I thought. I have just the man for this, though I’m disappointed that I can’t have you right away. See, I need to desecrate your soul, first.”

And he waits, so Dean takes that as his cue, “What d’you mean?”

Alastair winks, pleased that Dean is going along with his little game. “Well. You’re an angelic vessel because Grace has been passed onto your bloodline for generation. It grew stronger and stronger, strong enough to hold an Archangel without blowing you up. Now,” he starts walking around the slab, fingers grazing Dean’s shoulder. “Lucifer let me in on a little secret. If you desecrate a vessel, angels can’t possess them anymore. Which means, I can attach whatever’s left of my human soul to your body. And your body will integrate me fully. I won’t have to mend you, because I’ll become you.”

Now he’s back in front of Dean, their faces inches to each other. “You understand? I’ll be more powerful on this Earth that I’ve ever been before. I’ll have the power of Hell, and the power of Heaven at my disposal. I’ll be unstoppable.” He licks his lips, and a spark of trepidation passes through his eyes. “I’ll be able to send the Angels back from where they come from. And Earth will be mine, to do as I please. No more rules,” he whispers into Dean’s ear. “No more holding back.”

“Then why didn’t you do it ‘fore now?”

Laughing, Alastair pulls away. “I tried, you know? But…” he shrugs, “they all died on me. All the other vessels I could find.”

Dean’s heart is trying to pump faster, and the dizziness comes back full force. _Tell Gabriel you fucking moron!_

“But they were only angel’s vessels. If it works, with you, I will get more power. And you’ll get the ride of your life.” And now he’s grinning, teeth showing.

Dean feels like he’s looking at a great shark. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“You’re stronger,” is all Alastair answers. “Your soul is brighter. Holier. Don’t worry about it.”

 _Don’t worry_ , Dean thinks idly. _Yeah, like he can do anything else_. Only dimly is he aware that he started blinking furiously when he tries to answer something else, to look at the demon, but all his eyes manage to focus on is the light above him. He can’t hold on anymore. The fog is back, now, full force, and he can’t escape it anymore.

 _Shit_. He’s out of time. And he forgot to tell Gabriel. About? _Gabriel, the warehouse._ Yes. No.

_Too late._

Alastair can do whatever he wants. Dean can’t stay awake a second longer. He wishes he could see Sam, right now. Hell, even Gabriel’s face would be welcomed.

He misses his brother. His missed a lot of things, a lot of opportunities, come to think of it. If this is the end of his life, then he doesn’t have a lot to show for it. Nothing to leave behind.

It’s a shame, he decides, as his brain slowly comes to a stop. _A damn shame_.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sam follows along as the others argue about food. He’s not hungry, hasn’t been hungry since he got Cas’s phone call, but now his stomach feels like it’s made of lead. One look at Gabriel told him everything he needed to know. Which is, they’re fucked. Dean is fucked. If Sam doesn’t do something, doesn’t have an epiphany right at this moment, Dean is fucked, now and forever, Amen.

Looking around in search of an idea or a clue doesn’t help much. He’s too distracted, anyway, with Charlie and Cas loudly arguing for burgers against the others arguing for whatever it is they’re craving. Only Gabriel is silent, eyes lit with furious righteousness as he walks behind them all. He seemed to have had the epiphany Sam’s craving for. Good for him.

“And, anyway, we don’t even know what’s out there,” Meg almost yells to be heard.

“Let’s find a map,” Victor says, like it’s going to solve their problem.

“We don’t need a map to find a burger joint,” Charlie argues.

Bobby rolls his eyes. Meg just looks scandalized for a moment, before pointing a finger at Charlie’s chest, “Who said you got to decide where we eat?!”

“Please, calm down,” Castiel says, squinting at Meg.

“I’m not calming down, okay? Everything is going to shit, and all I want is to taste something other than a burger before I get torn to pieces by demons, alright? So if Miss Sunshine over there will stop being a bitch for one second—“

“I’m being a bitch?!”

Sam tunes out. Instead, he walks up a few steps ahead of them, to a map of the city, and just looks at it without looking, eyes drifting on the city’s landscape and the other small towns around it.

And then something catches his eyes. His heart stops.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Gabriel notices Sam freezing in front of the map, and before he knows it, he’s standing next to him.

“Sam,” he says, frowning. Sam has his notebook open in front of him, eyes going from the scribbles on the page to the map, white as a sheet. “Sam?”

Slowly, like he can’t believe it, Sam points at something on the map. “I think I found Dean.”

Gabriel doesn’t get it right away. It takes him a few seconds, thoughts furiously colliding inside his head, but he makes himself focus, and takes another look at the notebook in Sam’s hands.

_Experiment, Hell, maybe they think it’s funny, Paradise, Nothing (srsly is it a pun), Spread Eagle (??)  
GAMINVAZWI_

All in a neat little script. His eyes see it before he can comprehend it, brain arranging the words before his conscious mind. Her handwriting is so tiny and so tight that at first the second line looks like a single word, but they’re actually written under the first line, two letters at a time, with small spaces between them.

_Experiment   Hell_ _maybe they think it’s funny _ _Paradise     Nothing_ _ (srsly is it a pun) _ _Spread Eagle_

_GA           MI                                              NV             AZ                                          WI_

Experiment, GA.

Hell, MI.

Paradise, NV.

Nothing, AZ.

Spread Eagle, WI.

And right there, on the map, above Sam’s finger, is the little town of Paradise, Nevada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Graphic depiction of torture, blood, body horror


	12. Paradise City

# CHAPTER 12: Paradise City

 

“This… Sam, are you sure?”

Sam is still standing, frozen, in front of the city map, but the others have noticed, and now they slowly come closer, all thoughts of bickering over food forgotten. Gabriel can only stand there, too, heart beating wildly inside his chest.

“Sam!”

“N—Yeah,” Sam replies, absent-mindedly. Then, stronger, “Yes!” When he turns to Gabriel, all traces of anger have disappeared, and all that is left in his eyes is an unmistakable excitement. “It all makes sense!”

Bobby is the first to approach, frowning in that serious way of his, “What makes sense?”

“I found Dean,” Sam exclaims, a little incredulous laugh bubbling out.

He hands Bobby the notebook, and the others gather around the old man, perplexed.

“We need to go,” Sam tells them, urgently. “Now!”

“Wait!” Gabriel grabs his arm before he can go anywhere, and Sam shoots him a reproachful look. “Sam, we need to make sure, first!”

“I’m sure!”

“It fits,” Charlie says with a small hopeful smile.

“But if it doesn’t,” Bobby gruffly says, “then we barge in one city, only to find some jack with a bit of squat, while Dean’s hold up in another being poked at by some jackass demon.”

Sam’s mouth tightens into a thin line.

“Bobby’s right,” Gabriel tells him, looking up into his eyes. “I know you want to find your brother, but we need to make sure. We can’t leave it to chance.”

“I’m sure,” Sam repeats, staring back.

“Let’s at least check that all the cities on the notebook exist, okay?”

“Yes,” Victor steps in, “and we’ll need to check the landmarks, the city’s layout. Because if Dean’s there then we need to know where to look.”

When Gabriel gives him an impressed look, because, damn, Gabriel’s never heard him talk that much before and he’s as surprised as everybody else to hear his voice, Victor just shrugs.

Sam’s jaw clenches as he holds back an angry retort, and he looks away.

“Sam,” Gabriel insists.

“I can’t risk it,” Sam shoots back. Frustration has him shivering, and with a heavy sigh he runs a hand through his hair. “What if we find him too late? Because we took the time to…” He huffs, sentence trailing off into nothing.

“What if we look in the wrong place and have to start all over again,” Gabriel says, his voice quiet. “What if we rush there and run out of time because we didn’t stop to think.”

He doesn’t even try to make it sound like a question, and he holds Sam’s gaze. The boy bites on his lower lip. His eyebrows furrow upward.

Gabriel tries to look hopeful. He shoves the fear out of his mind. Same fear Sam’s showing, but he can’t let it rule him for now.

 “Fine,” Sam finally lets out. He holds a finger up, right in Gabriel’s face, before anybody can interrupt him, “One hour. Whatever we find, one hour, and we’re getting Dean.”

“It’s a deal,” Gabriel quietly says, almost crumbling under the weight of Sam’s gaze.

The others nod. They fall quiet, and the noises of the city, still bursting with life even this late in the night, fill their silence.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I found a map,” Charlie calls from behind her computer.

The cyber coffee shop is almost empty, save for them and the clerk, a middle-aged woman with short blue hair and a nose piercing who’s been ignoring them and taping away on her keyboard ever since she handed them the codes for two computers.

Libraries, at this hour, were all closed, so they opted for this. Which, if Gabriel’s honest, makes him a little uncomfortable, because he’s not as educated on computers as he’d like to be, but Charlie seems to have gotten the hang of it after watching Sam for a little while.

“There’s even a satellite view and everything,” Charlie goes on, moving the mouse with her tongue between her teeth.

 

Sam doesn’t bother standing. He slides his chair next to her, and Bobby, Victor, Meg and Cas follow. When Gabriel joins them, they part like the red sea to make space for him, and he has to hold back from sighing very loudly.

Sam’s eyebrows climb up into his hairline. “Where did you find this?”

“What can I say,” Charlie answers with a smirk, “I’m a genius.”

Huffing, Sam keeps his eyes firmly on the screen. Charlie moves away slightly so he can reach the mouse, and the satellite view of the city suddenly fills the screen.

Sam hums. “It’s not that big… looks mostly suburban…”

Bobby snorts, “Looks like a tourist trap.”

Meg leans forward. “What does it mean?”

“Means it’s hard to hide human trafficking in a city filled with hippies and soccer moms on vacation,” Bobby grunts.

“So Dean’s not there,” Charlie whispers.

Gabriel can hear the defeat in her voice, and he side eyes Sam, watching for any sign of break down. But the boy isn’t discouraged. A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he keeps his gaze on the map, zooming in on it.

“This looks like an industrial complex,” he says, pointing at the screen. From above, the buildings look like warehouses. “And this,” he moves to the other side of the map, “looks like a big construction site.” He indicates the area around it, “There’s a natural reserve right there, and the rest is just desert, all around. Could be a good place to hide?” Scratching his chin, he finally looks up at Gabriel, “I mean, both could work?”

 “They wouldn’t hide anywhere,” Gabriel answers. “They probably own some of the buildings.”

Sam throws him a look that has Gabriel raising an eyebrow in defense, “We don’t have time to look for, for deeds, or—”

“I’m not saying we have to look,” Gabriel says. “But we need… something concrete.”

“What more do you want,” Sam exclaims with an exasperated sigh. “We don’t have time for this!”

“I know,” Gabriel says, eyeing the clerk’s desk to see if she heard the outburst, “Believe me, I’m with you, here.” He understands Sam, he really does, but this insistence that they run to Paradise to look for Dean when they don’t even know he’s there for sure is just starting to feel more like a crazy, desperate goose chase than a real plan. “But we can’t—”

“No,” Sam interrupts. Without looking at Gabriel, he closes the tabs on the computer, turning it off. “I’m done listening to you.”

Judging by the way the others have retreated, going as far as taking a step backward for Meg, and getting off her chair for Charlie, Gabriel’s not the only one who can feel the storm coming. Anger seems to radiate off Sam in waves. But Gabriel has to say something. To reason with him, at least. He has to, if he wants to save Dean from this giant mess.

“Sam…”

“We’ve done things your way,” Sam spits, head whipping in his direction, “and look where it got us!” _Ah, here it comes_ , Gabriel thinks. Sam’s finally going to blow. “All you did was hurt Dean, over and over, because you can’t own up to your shit! I’m tired of it, okay? So either you’ll do as I say, or you can go home.” He stands up, fists tightly shut. His biceps twitch. “We don’t need you as much as you think we do.”

His gaze is defiant, now, as he wait for Gabriel’s answer. Gabriel understands, really, where he’s coming from, but anger still clogs up his throat like a hot ball of anxious fury that threatens to overpower him and blow in everyone’s face.  

Doesn’t Sam realize all Gabriel ever did was try to make things better? For everyone?  This whole time, they held Gabriel responsible. For Lucifer’s actions, for Michael’s inaction, for everything that happened to Dean. But they were there, from the beginning. At least, Gabriel tried to do something. He was trying to make things right for them by showing the Council what rally happened. They didn’t. Sam didn’t.

“What makes you think your way is going to work better?”

Sam huffs, “I got Dean out of your mansion, didn’t I?” And now he’s smirking, “You never saw it coming. So trust me when I say I know what I’m doing.”

The remark stings, but Sam is right. The anger is still boiling under his skin, but he shoves it away. For now.

He shakes his head, “Fine. Do it your way. But I’m coming with you.”

Huffing, Sam stands and goes straight for the door. Gabriel sighs, and gives the others a look. “Meg, Cas, I think you should go get Jason.”

Meg’s mouth opens in outrage. “What? No!”

“Yes,” Gabriel insists. He takes her hands in his, hoping that maybe she’ll understand if she feels how restless he is, how his limbs are trembling with how much he wants to do something, anything to get Dean back. “He won’t be able to escape the hotel without Cas, and Cas needs you.”

“I can do it alone,” Castiel argues. “If Meg wants to go with you—”

“It’s fine,” Meg interrupts. She lets go of Gabriel’s hands and eyes Castiel, an eyebrow raised. “Big Boss’s right. You can’t do shit without me.”

Cas stares at her for a couple of long seconds before he huffs, “All right. Let’s go.” Then, to Gabriel, “We’ll join you once we have him.”

Gabriel nods. “Be careful.”

Castiel doesn’t bother answering, nodding slightly and following Meg outside. The others give Gabriel an anxious look. They still expect him to lead the way, as if he knew what he was doing.

He pretends he does, at least for the moment, and walks out. He hopes this time he won’t make things worse.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

They reach Paradise as the sun starts rising over the horizon.

The small city is more of a resort than a town, and pretty much looks like an extension of Vegas but with a much more high class clientele in mind. Watching the city from above, on a small hill where they parked Sam’s car, Gabriel can’t help feeling a little pang of desperation.

It’s huge for just five people to search, and they still have no idea if Dean’s really here. He wonders if he should go for the warehouse or for the construction site.

_Gabriel, the warehouse._

Gabriel starts. He barely notices Sam exit the car. Only the sound of the passenger door behind him makes him blink and get out of the car as well.

Sam’s voice floats in the background, the inflection of his voice the only thing Gabriel still notices as he focuses on the strange thought. He goes through his brain waves, pushing them aside until he finds the echo of the one he’s looking for. Rewinds. Stops. More than curious by now, he tries poking at it. It seems to bounce, as much as phantom waves of particles can bounce, and shimmers at the contact. Grace. A prayer, then.  

And it feels like… Dean.

“Gabriel,” Sam lets out in an annoyed breath.

“Yes,” Gabriel blinks, letting the physical world come back to him slowly. “What?”

“You didn’t listen to a word I said.”

“Of course I did.”

Sam shifts his weight, and, with a dubious pout, crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Then what do you think?”

The next few seconds of silence that follows makes it very clear that Gabriel doesn’t have a clue what’s been going on in the moment he tuned out to check on the weird prayer, and, judging by the look Bobby, Victor and Charlie are giving him, everybody knows it.

Charlie gives in first, “Warehouse or construction site? Which one do you want to check out?”

“Warehouse,” Gabriel blurts, before he can even think about it. Sam narrows his eyes at him. Gabriel tries to shrug it off. “I don’t see why demons would hide in a construction site.”

“Because it looks like they’re building another casino,” Sam shoots back, throwing his arms in the air. “Which is how they hide their side business. So, it makes sense that they’d use the place to hide the people they kidnapped!”

“I don’t see it,” Gabriel says, which prompts a huff from Sam. “It’s too obvious!”

Sam laughs, bitter and angry.

Gabriel doesn’t budge. “I’m going to the warehouse.”

“No, we’re going to the construction site!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sam grits his teeth, “I don’t care!”  

“Then why did you ask me where I wanted to go?”

“Because I don’t want to let you out of my sight!”

Bitterness rises like bile up Gabriel’s throat. “You don’t want to let me out of your sight?”

“Yeah,” Sam spits back, “because every time you do something things get worse! I can’t stand this crap anymore, you hear me? I need to find Dean and get his ass out of your reach, because he’s too important to me for me to let you fuck him up even more than you already did!”

“Okay, hold up a second, here,” Bobby’s gruff voice cuts through their bickering. Both turn to him at once. “Dean’s important to all of us,” he goes on, ignoring the way Sam is glaring daggers at him. “We’re all in this crap situation together, so stop jumping at each other’s throats every chance you get!”

Silence follows his words. Sam grits his teeth, taking a step back. “What do you propose, then?”

The sarcasm in his tone isn’t lost on anyone present.

“There’s enough of us that we can make groups and check out both places,” Victor steps in.

Charlie nods vigorously, and Bobby raises an eyebrow, which, Gabriel takes it, is his way of saying ‘see?’

“They’re right,” Gabriel says, cautiously. “We’re all here for Dean.” Sam gives him a dubious look at that, so he adds, “There’ll be time later if you still want to yell at me.”

Sam blows out a breath. “Fine. I’ll come with you to the warehouse, you,” he nods at Charlie, Victor and Bobby, “go check out the construction site. Don’t forget to scout the natural reserve nearby if you can.”

They all nod, and Charlie whispers a small, “Yes, Sir.”

“Pray if you find anything,” Gabriel adds.

And on they go.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“This was a bad idea,” Sam whispers.

They’re crouching behind a truck, observing the warehouses from afar, to make sure no one, or not too many demons, are around. They still don’t know where to go, exactly, but Gabriel is sure they’re getting close.

“You should go back to the others, then,” Gabriel answers.

He lost all his patience once he found himself alone with Sam, and he doesn’t try to hide how annoyed he’s feeling. Sam huffs at that, but doesn’t say anything.

He’s wound so tight, Gabriel’s scared he’s going to lash out at him any second now. Not that he couldn’t take him, of course, but he’s not sure Dean would appreciate the consequences.

Sam suddenly tenses even more. “Look!”

A small van bearing the logo of the Alchemist Grand Hotel appears on the road under where they’re hiding, driving slowly to the warehouses.

“We should follow it,” Sam says, as the van disappears in the middle of the buildings.

“On it,” Gabriel whispers.

He’s already focused on the driver, on the signature waves of his brain. They’re small, dormant, and above them, Gabriel can feel the much bigger waves the demon’s twisted soul inside the human is emitting.

Sam is already up, ready to sprint, and he gives Gabriel a panicked look. “What are you waiting for?”

“Give me your hand,” Gabriel only answers.

Sam, to his credit, is only confused long enough for Gabriel to stand as well. Understanding then crosses his features, and he extends his hand, a sour look on his face.

“I don’t like this,” he says.

“Tough,” Gabriel deadpans, fingers barely grazing his skin as his wings already extend, invisible.

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but he’s not quick enough. Focusing on the demon, Gabriel takes off, partly because he doesn’t want to hear what Sam has to say, partly because anxiety is starting to bubble up under his skin, not knowing in what state they’re going to find Dean.

He lands more violently than he would’ve liked, and Sam goes sprawling back on his ass.

“Ow,” Sam mouths.

Gabriel shrugs, offering only a half-apologetic raise of an eyebrow. Sam can handle a sore ass.

Looking around, Gabriel spots the van. The demon who drove it is getting out, walking to one of the warehouses on Sam and Gabriel’s left. It has to be there.

“Come on,” Gabriel whispers to Sam who’s clumsily standing up.

Sam shots him a glare, but follows without a word. They spend a few minutes outside the door, waiting, trying to hear what’s happening inside. Gabriel is still linked with the poor sap possessed by the demon, but it’s flimsy, at best. As soon as he loses the connection, he assumes the demon’s gone. He can’t feel anyone else in their immediate vicinity.

So they enter the building.

They find themselves in a gloomy corridor. It’s dark and cool inside. There’s total silence. The hairs on Gabriel’s forearms are standing up on their own, and if he was a better man, or a better angel in his case, he would admit it. But Sam already thinks he’s a coward. Better not add insult to injury.

Taking out a gun from the back of his pants, Sam leads the way without asking. He’s focused, and finally Gabriel understands how Dean can give him his entire trust when they’re hunting together. He thought Sam was only a scholar pretending to be a man of action. Now he can see that’s not the case.

They walk and walk, tortuously slowly, through what feels like miles of corridors. Sam doesn’t lose his focus. He leads the way, gun raised, his breathing speeding every time they round a corner, but other than that, there’s nothing in his attitude that shows he’s scared.

They pass a few doors, and Gabriel checks every single room, sending bursts of Grace flying inside. They’re mostly full of junk, from what he can tell. Actual furniture, chairs, crates. He’s starting to think he was wrong. Maybe Dean isn’t here. Maybe he only wished he was.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he dismisses it. He knows what he felt. It _was_ a prayer, and it _was_ from Dean, he’s sure of it.  

He tries to reassure himself, going as far as to go into the depth of his mind, to find the echo of Dean’s prayer there. Touching it, feeling it, it’s almost as if Dean’s here with him instead of Sam, and he gets so absorbed in the sensation that he doesn’t see that Sam has stopped, and bumps into him, almost ending on his ass.

There, in front of them, is a stairway going down to who knows where. Surprisingly, Gabriel can feel some threads of thoughts, almost imperceptible, coming from down the steps. Only problem is, he can also feel some others coming from the other side of the corridor. It goes on a few feet, then turns right. But Gabriel is sure there are people there.

“Sam,” he whispers.

Sam turns to him, frowning. Gabriel gives him a worried look. “There are people down there, and somewhere close by, over there,” he indicates the end of the corridor.

Sam looks around. His mouth twists as he thinks and probably comes to the same conclusion Gabriel came to. They have to take a path each.

“I’ll take the stairs,” Sam whispers back.

Gabriel nods. “Be careful.”

Sam dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. He’s already focused on the stairs, a foot on the first step.

“Pray if you find him,” Gabriel just has time to say, before Sam disappears.

And then he’s alone.

Eyeing the corridor, he starts walking again. All he can do is pray they’ll find Dean in time.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

There are people here. The thing is, there’s a shield around the place. Gabriel can’t tell if they’re human or not. After walking for a couple of minutes, he found the end of the corridor. The big, reinforced door is protected by magic. There’s a small window above him, but it’s so high he wonders how he’s going to reach it.

It’s the first time in centuries that he wants to curse his vessel.

He eyes the crates at his feet with disdain. Nobody is going to see him, anyway, and he really needs to see what’s happening. The voices are inaudible, but it sounds like there’s an argument happening. Maybe he could learn more about Dean’s situation if he could hear even a mere murmur of what this is about.

Not like he has a choice, anyway.

With a pout of disgust, he climbs a crate, then two, until he can at least see through the little window. But first, he examines it for any weak spot in the glass, a loose pane, a crack. If he could just find a little hole, something, anything he could slide a tendril of Grace through, he could hear what they’re saying.

He just has enough dignity and brain left to not ‘whoop’ when he finds it.

As soon as he pushes Grace into it, the sounds from the room come bursting into his ears in perfect stereo.

He peaks through the window. Two men are standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by crates, and cardboard boxes, and they seem to be waiting. Gabriel can only guess that they are demons, because the room is protected. He doesn’t know if it’s sigils, or a spell, but he can’t feel anything.

“We’re going to die,” one of the men whispers to the other.

“It’s ya’ fault, moron,” the other answers. “You’re the one who didn’t check ya’ friggin’ truck!”

“Shut your mouth…”

They keep bickering, so Gabriel tunes out for a bit, trying to sense, with the little bit of Grace he could pass through, if there are more people around. Unfortunately, the spell preventing him from figuring out if there are only demons around is powerful, and he can’t feel anything else.

Its power is fierce, stifling. Gabriel can barely concentrate on anything else now that he noticed it. It’s like there’s something trying to snuff out his Grace. Nothing good can come out of it, and a foreboding feeling creeps up his spine, tingly, like a whisper.

But Dean’s in there, somewhere. He’s sure of it. And he needs… redemption. Not love, he won’t ever get that back, but he needs to save Dean, and give him his life back, so that things can go back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as they can be.

Dean deserves it. Gabriel was just an obstacle in the path of his life, something that held him back. He’s destined for greater things. Gabriel started this mess, so he needs to put an end to it. Maybe then, the warmth in Gabriel’s heart that he has come to love and hate in equal measure will finally die out.

Those feelings, those sentiments are human. And if Gabriel wants to help the others as well, he needs to get rid of them.

Loving Dean, it’s been a great experience. But that’s all it is. An experience. Not something he should hold on to. Or else he’ll keep hurting Dean, forever, if he just selfishly follows his heart.

The thought gives him a bit of courage. He doesn’t want to die, of course. But if he can be the hero, just this once, then maybe he’ll feel better about himself. After all, he has people counting on him. He has true responsibilities.

He’s never felt the weight of them as acutely as he does now.

A commotion on the other side of the door takes him out of his thoughts. The back of the warehouse is bathed in darkness, so it’s hard to see. He can only assume it’s another demon coming to have a go at the others. He can see two shapes, though, one dragging another toward the light.

His vessel’s heart misses a beat when the figures come into view.

_Cas!_

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

It only gets darker as Sam carefully walks down the stairs, his gun at the ready. There’s no sound, beside drops of water falling from some place far away. The further Sam goes, the fouler it smells, too. Like piss, and shit, and the metallic tang of old blood.

He’s not in a hurry to find out where it’s coming from. He can only hope Dean’s not here.

The steps get rougher and rougher. Soon, he’s out in a small room, seemingly without anything in it. Until he sees the cages that pass as walls. When he takes a peak, he almost throws up, right there. The cages, square, like in an animal shelter, piled on top of each other on two sides of the room, are filled with bodies.

Dead, rotting bodies, mostly.

This is where the smell comes from. Sam gags, and covers his nose.

_God, please, don’t let one of these bodies be Dean’s_. He has to check all of them.

As he does, his hearts pumps like crazy against his ribcage, fear and anger pushing him forward, and holding him back at the same time. So far, no sign of Dean. Not in the first wall of cages. Now, onto the other one.

He can’t believe he let Gabriel do this, take Dean with him, and for what? They have nothing on Lucifer. Nothing, and Dean’s lost. What if he finds his body here? He’s not sure he’ll be able to control his rage.

He’ll have to kill Gabriel. He already wants to kill him, for everything the archangel did to his brother, but Gabriel has been at least doing right by the people in his house, so far. But if Dean’s dead because of him…

The thought makes him shiver, and he tries to push it away. It won’t leave him alone. He would lose Jess, probably. He loves her. He thinks he loves her, at least. They have something good, and ever since she’s been freed, it’s like she’s blooming, happiness clearer in what she does and how she acts as the days pass.

He’d willingly throw all that away for Dean. He would. Dean’s his brother, the only constant in his life. The only person who’s been there for him, forever. Their dad… ever since mom died, dad had been just another adult figure in their lives, there some days, gone others, as much of a father as Pastor Jim was, which says a lot about the man John Winchester was before he died.

Dean’s the one who raised Sam, and even if they don’t see eye to eye most of the time, Sam would willingly give his life for his brother. He already rescued him from Gabriel, once. He can rescue him from this hell hole, too.

It won’t be too late. It won’t.

It’s only confirmed when Sam reaches the end of the second wall. Some of the cages are empty. In the very last one, closest to the door he came in through, is a child. A little girl, that he first thought was dead, too, but when he sighs as he looks at her, she opens her eyes.

He jumps, surprised.

“No,” she breathes. Barely a whisper. “P—please, don’t h—hurt me.” 

“It’s okay,” Sam whispers. “I’m not… I’m not a bad guy, okay? I’m here to help. See?” He raises his gun, barrel directed at the ceiling, and, slowly, tucks it back in the back of his pants. “I’m here to help.”

She licks her cracked, bloodied lips, warily. Obviously, she wasn’t about to trust him on his word. He can’t imagine the amount of trauma her small body has been through. How many days has she been here? He has no water to give her, no food. Nothing.

And he has to think about Dean.

The clock is ticking, who knows what could happen if he stops to help her? But he said he would. His heart spoke before his brain, and he knows he won’t be able to walk away from her. He has to try to save her, get her out of there, at least.

He looks down at the lock on the cage. It doesn’t seem too complicated, nothing he can’t pick, at least. So he takes his lock pick kit out of the inside pocket of his jacket, and gives it a go.

He so focused he doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him. Lucky for him, he’s glancing toward the girl from time to time, and notices the moment her expression changes from wide-eyed curiosity to fear.

With a powerful push of thighs, he turns around, just as the sound of someone cocking a gun echoes in the room. He barely has time to reach the hand holding the gun and push it away before it fires. The gun flies, and Sam jumps toward it, catching it as it lands on the cold, hard ground. There’s no time to think. He rolls over on his back, and shoots. Once, twice. Right in the man’s chest.

Blood oozes from the wounds, but the guy, tall, with a reddish beard and hair, only looks down on them, and groans.

“Look what you’ve done, you asshole,” he spits at Sam. “A brand new meat suit!”

A demon. _Shit_.

He tries to shoot again, but the magazine is empty. _Fuck that_. He stands up, throwing the gun on the side, and take a fighting stance.

The demon laughs. “You think you can take me?”

“I know I can,” Sam says. And he throws a punch.

He’s not about to wait on the guy. He hits him, square in the jaw, taking him by surprise. At least that’s something. The demon’s reflexes aren’t as good as Sam thought they would be.

The demon snarls. “You little shit!”

He comes at Sam with a scream. Sam ducks, parries the next blow, and crashes the palm of his hand up the demon’s nose. Spitting blood, the demon doesn’t relent. He keeps attacking, and attacking, gets a punch in and blows Sam’s lip open.

Sam doesn’t have time for this. There’s the little girl to think about and Dean to find.

“Enough playing,” he spits the blood gathering in his mouth. “Exorcizamus te…”

Laughing, the demon runs at him again. Sam parries, and he goes on. “Omnis immundus spiritus, ah!” Blocking the next punch coming for his cheek, Sam lands one in the demon’s stomach. “omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii… Fuck!”

He’s on the floor, and the demon is going after him, pinning him down. “You won’t finish,” the demon taunts. “And when I’m done with you, you won’t know what words are anymore.”

“Omnis legio,” Sam answers, trying to push him away. “omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!”

He’s grunting with the effort of speaking and fighting at the same time. The demon’s starting to falter. Sam manages to wrap his legs around him and turn them over.

“Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te,” Sam pushes the demon’s face away, crushing it against the floor. The demon’s seizing. “Eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare,” he goes on with a victorious grin. “ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire!”

“You won’t—you won’t,” the demon tries. “He won’t let you! You won’t—”

“Te rogamus,” Sam answers. The demon’s eyes roll back into his skull.

“You…” the demon spits. Smoke escapes from his mouth. “Won’t…”

Hands on his throat, Sam twists the skin beneath his fingers. He doesn’t care about what the demon has to say. He focuses on his rage, and his fear for his brother, and squeezes. “Audi nos!”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Cas,” Gabriel whispers.

He has trouble believing it, but it is really Castiel, being pushed toward the other two demons by a blonde woman wearing a pant suit. There’s an impressive bruise blooming on his cheek. He looks exhausted, but there’s something fierce in his eyes.

What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be at the hotel, looking after Jason and Meg. What in heaven’s name happened?

“You found ‘im,” one of the male demon says, as the blonde pushes Castiel again.

He tumbles and ends up on his knees in front of them.

“Found him sniffing around,” the blonde drawls with a heavy southern accent. “Wasn’t that hard to catch. You fucked up, Darlin’. You fucked up, big time.”

“Shuddup,” the big, burly one snaps at her. “I didn’t know he was here!”

“My, my,” comes a familiar voice from the shadows. “What do we have here?”

Gabriel can’t place the voice. He knows it, but it’s like it’s replaying through a broken gramophone, the pace of it all wrong, and the flow of it dripping with slime.

And then he sees him. Jason.

No. It’s wrong. It’s Jason’s body, but there’s someone else controlling it.

Gabriel’s heart starts beating faster. He knows what he has to do, but he’s scared, and, briefly, fear roots him to the spot.

“What have you done to him” Cas spits at _Jason_.

“You were too slow, little seraph,” _Jason_ says with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Dean isn’t ready yet. And I needed a vessel.” He shrugs. “This one’s perfect for now. Just a few more hours—”

“Where’s Dean?” Cas thrashes against the blonde. “What have you done to him?”

Gabriel stops listening, withdrawing his tendril of Grace, and jumping from his crate.

_Heavens_. He needs to go in. He needs to save Jason and Cas. And that demon seems to know where Dean is. He has no choice.

He’s an archangel. He’s powerful and mighty. He can save his friends. He can do it.

Decision made, he takes position in front of the door. Sam’s probably too far away to be able to help, and the sense of urgency growing inside of Gabriel won’t let him wait.

It’s now or never.

Focusing his Grace on the locks, he burst the door open. The demons and Cas all turn to him. The blonde is holding Cas up by the collar of his dress shirt, and blood is seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

“Let him go,” Gabriel growls.

He tries to let his Grace crackle in the air, tries to show his strengths, but the Dark Spell surrounding the place makes him lose his focus again. It’s much more potent inside this room. Gabriel can almost taste it, like sulfur and ash on his tongue.

“Gabriel,” _Jason_ says. “Glad you could join us.”

Gabriel keeps his distance. Who knows what the Spell is doing to him? He doesn’t want to take too much risk. Not yet, anyway. “Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me?” _Jason_ raises his hands, showing off the body he’s possessing. “I’m wounded, _Archangel_.”

The way his tongue curls around the syllables makes something click in Gabriel’s mind. He can’t believe it, and he barely manages to whisper the name, “Alastair!”

“Bingo,” Alastair claps. Then, with a wink, “I knew you couldn’t forget me. And oooh,” a faux-shiver runs through him, “in this body? I just want to pound into your ass until you scream.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer. He tries to assess the situation, but he can’t see anything that will help him. The blonde demon has Cas back on his knees, and she’s holding him down by the back of his neck.

“Although,” Alastair goes on, “this one,” he points at his own chest. _Jason’s chest_. “Kind of hates you. I wonder if I’ll get the urge to suck you off once I possess Dean. What do you think?”

“Where is he?!”

“Relax,” Alastair laughs, hands reaching up in a placatory gesture. “All in due time, right? First, I have a little seraph to take care of.”

Gabriel takes a step forward. A small, careful step. “You won’t touch him. You already took his Grace, what more do you want?”

Alastair shrugs. “Well, your Grace would be better. But I’ll make do with his.”

“Stop this nonsense right now, Alastair,” Gabriel growls through gritted teeth. “Or it won’t end well for you!”

Empty threats aren’t much of a defense, but Gabriel at least hopes it’ll buy him some time.

“You want to make me believe you have your precious Council on speed dial? Please,” Alastair laughs, a dirty, evil sound coming out of Jason’s mouth. “We both know the Elohim doesn’t care. Don’t take me for a fool.”

Again, Gabriel keeps his mouth shut. The truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. Alastair is right, Sam is Heaven knows where, Cas has no Grace, and even if Gabriel starts fighting his way to Dean, he doesn’t know where to look, and doesn’t know how many demons are hiding in the building. He’s alone.

Alastair scoffs when he gets no answer. “Fine.” He nods toward the blonde. “Did you do what I asked you?”

“Of course.”

Satisfied, Alastair turns, and yells at the shadow behind him. “Bring him out!” He rounds on Gabriel. “I want to have a little experiment.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Smoke flies out of the demons mouth, followed by the piercing sound of his inhuman cry as the smoke crashes against the floor and burns, burns, burns until there’s nothing left but ashes.

The body under Sam stops wriggling, dead.

Briefly, Sam feels guilty. He killed the vessel when he shot the demon. But he can’t dwell on that for too long. The girl.

Out of breath, he rolls off the body and turns to her. She’s all the way back inside her cage, eyes wide open in fear. He tries to smile at her, but it doesn’t do much. He knows what he must look like, right now.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says.

It takes him a little while for him to push his body up. He’s hurting all over, and, with a groan and a lot of effort, he manages to crawl toward the cage. Once there, he picks up the pick, and gets to work again. The little girl doesn’t say anything, just watches him.

He’s a bit disoriented, so it takes longer than it should. He hopes the demon didn’t give him a concussion. He thinks he’d be able to feel it, if it was the case, but he can never be too careful.

The lock pops open and the girl jumps. She’s more curious than frightened, by now, but she still stays as far away from Sam as possible.

He opens the cage, careful not to startle her, and holds out a hand.

“It’s okay,” he tries to smile. The crack in his lower lip throbs dully. “I’m here to help.”

She’s shaking, eyes drifting between his hand and his face. He keeps his smile on.

“I’m here looking for my brother,” he says. Maybe she’s seen Dean. He can’t ignore the possibility. With slow movements, he takes a picture out of his jacket. “Look. It’s him, on the right,” he tells her, showing her the picture. “Did you see him around here?”

She squints at the picture. There’s not much light in here, but she brings her face closer to it, eyes roaming over it. She shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers.

“Okay. Thanks,” Sam answers, putting the picture away. He holds his hand out again. “If you come out I can get you out of here.”

The girl keeps staring, careful. She stays as far as possible, so Sam tries to coax her out.

“How did you get here?”

She shrugs, eyes fixed on Sam’s hand. He keeps as still as he can.

“My master needed a fancy car. He sold me for it. In a big city.”

_Jesus_. Sam keeps the smile glued to his face, but all he wants to do is reach inside the cage and hug her.

“What about your parents?”

No emotion shows on her face, nothing to show that she’s being missed some place.

“I don’t have parents,” she says evenly. “I was born on a Farm.”

_Christ_. Not having parents is bad enough, although Sam would argue that it’s not as bad as having a dad who’s never actually there. But to be born on a breeding farm, he can’t imagine what it feels like.

He’s heard about those places, obviously. It’s like an urban legend, tales of demons buying estates and slaves as a group, making them pop out babies and selling them all to make a profit.

It’s illegal, of course. But it’s not like it’s going to stop the demons.

When you’re free, Sam realizes with a pang of guilt, slavery problems seem very far away. Almost unreal. He used to think there was nothing he could do about them. Maybe now he can do something for her, at least.

“What’s your name?”

“Girl,” she says, in the same tone of voice.

He frowns, “That’s not a name.”

“It’s how the masters call me.”

Sam hums, thoughtful. He could almost get distracted from the danger and from thoughts of Dean by this strange little girl. If she doesn’t have a name, and if she was born on a farm, then it probably means she doesn’t have official papers.

Time is running out, though. He can’t stay with her if she won’t come out. Maybe she needs a bit of time.

“Tell you what,” he says. “I need to find my brother, and there might still be bad guys around. Can you stay here while I go look down there,” he asks, pointing to another flight of stairs that plunge into darkness at the far end of the room. “And when I’m done, I’ll come right back to get you, and we’ll get out of here together, okay?”

Staring at him, she seems to consider it. Her eyes have a piercing quality to them, calculating, boring into Sam like she can read his thoughts.

Then, carefully, she nods.

“I’m just gonna close the door,” he says, pushing the cage’s door close as he speaks. “I’m not locking it, see? It’s just in case a bad guy comes, alright?”

She doesn’t answer. He wishes he could see her face better, but it’s a bit dark, rows of cages obscure any light that could come from the room’s high windows, and she’s covered in what’s probably a lot of blood and dirt.

“I’ll be right back.”

He unfolds from where he’s crouching in front of her cage, and, almost reluctantly, turns his back on her. He hopes she’ll be alright. He hopes he’ll find Dean alive, too.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

It’s too much. There are too many demons, Alastair has too much power, and as much as Gabriel racks his own brain, he can’t find a solution to get Cas, and much less Jason, out of this mess. To find Dean. Maybe if Sam was here, he’d have a better chance.

He needs time so Sam can join him.

He takes a breath. “I’m tired of playing your games, Al—”

“T-t-t-t,” Alastair interrupts, a finger waving in the air. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

With a flourish, he steps aside, to reveal two other demons dragging a bloodied, naked man behind them. The poor guy – boy?-- is covered in enochian symbols directly carved into his skin. It’s an old, old ritual that Gabriel isn’t sure he’s ever witnessed with his own eyes before. It feels dangerous. And the boy looks dead.

Gabriel and Castiel share a look. It had to be Lucifer who shared this particular secret with the demon.

Alastair nudges the boy, smirking into his face, “Look who paid us a little visit.”

It’s not until the boy opens his eyes, his gaze weak, unfocused, that Gabriel recognizes their color, the green of them still very sharp in the middle of the bloodied face.

“Dean,” he gasps.

Dean’s mouth move, but no sound comes out.

“You can leave,” Alastair tells his goons.

The ones still holding Dean unceremoniously drops him on the floor, before they all disappear, the blond and the first two demons too, into the darkness on the other side of the room.

Gabriel is torn between an urge to flee and the desire to run to Dean. But Alastair is still very close. He can’t risk his life, not yet. He’s Dean’s only hope.

Looking at him, Alastair laughs, delighted. “This is priceless! I’m so glad you’re here!” And, without warning, he throws a kick right into Dean’s stomach.

Dean cowers on himself, and he’s so weak he can’t even cry out. Instead, a pathetic little whimper escapes him.

Gabriel can’t help himself. He runs to him, every sense on high alert, “STOP!”

“GABRIEL,” Cas yells at the same time.

But Gabriel isn’t listening.

His hands are on Dean, gently cradling his face. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ll get you out. I’m sorry. I’ll bring you back home.”

“How touching,” Alastair sneers.

Strangely, he’s walked away, leaving them both alone, and now he’s standing next to Cas. But Dean is trying to talk, and so Gabriel gets distracted.

“Shhh, it’s fine.”

“T—trap,” Dean breathes.

It takes a millisecond. There’s a metallic noise, and suddenly they’re both surrounded by fire. Gabriel’s Grace retracts far inside his vessel, hurt by the searing warmth.

_Holy fire_.

“It won’t hold me for long,” Gabriel snarls, standing up.

The dark power of the unknown Spell feels suffocating from here. But he’s so furious, he knows he could snuff out the flames with just one push of grace.

“No, it won’t,” Alastair smiles. “That’s why I have this.”

Bending over, he touches the ground and whispers something Gabriel doesn’t catch. It ignites the symbol on the floor, the design clearly angelic in nature, but old. So very old.

As soon as the spell is activated, it’s like Gabriel has been punched in the stomach, like his lungs have been emptied of air. He can’t do anything. His Grace is _crying_ in agony.

“What have you done?” He hears Cas roar, before he realizes he’s the one screaming.

He’s on the floor, facing Dean. Dean is trying to crawl to him, despite the pain written all over his features.

_No_. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.

All he can do now is lie on his back. The Spell is reaching through the air, up, up, almost touching the ceiling, so bright it’s almost blinding. It looks like a golden canary cage. Like the one in the little cartoon, with the cat.

He frowns. His vessel’s brain functions are shutting down. Something’s pulling him out of his vessel. It can’t happen.

_Not now!_

He tries to look at Alastair. To say something, or hear what’s happening. But he can’t hear anymore. He can only read Alastair’s lips, more or less.

Latin? An exorcism?

The pull is too strong, the pain too unbearable. It shouldn’t be working, but somehow, it does.

Before he can do anything, his hold on his Vessel slips. He’s expulsed from it and his astral body, weakened under the spell, gets projected against the walls of the golden cage. He’s stuck. He can’t go back to heaven.

_I was supposed to help. This can’t be happening._

He’s going to fade. There’s nothing tethering him to this earth anymore, and he can feel the molecules trying to scatter to follow the natural order.

He’s going to die.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“He’s going to die! Stop this!”

Cas’s voice resonates through the haze of Dean’s brain. Through the flames, he can see Cas on his knees, and Alastair standing in front of him.

“I know,” the demon says. “I’m counting on it.”

Dean’s gaze lands on Gabriel. Or rather, Gabriel’s body. There’s no mistaking the dead quality of his skin.

“Gabe,” he tries to say.

But he’s too weak, _dammit_ , and he can’t think. Cas is looking up, though, fear clear on his face. No sorrow, or sadness. Fear.

Dean looks up as well. A small, golden ball of light, as big as a tennis ball, keeps bumping into an invisible barrier into thin air, its shine dimming as seconds tick by.

_Is that… Gabriel?_

With a snap of his fingers, Alastair smothers the holy fire surrounding Dean, and walks to Gabriel’s vessel.

“I’m not sure it’ll work,” he muses, looking at Dean. “But he’s been in his vessel long enough that I can maybe slip through the cracks…” He tilts his head on the side. “Won’t kill me. Won’t last long, but I’m sure it’ll be a fun ride.” He grins with Jason’s face – Dean’s heart briefly hurts for the guy, even if he wasn’t fond of him – and he opens his mouth.

Bluish grey smoke burst out of it. Jason’s body falls to the floor. The ball of light is still fighting, dimming, and dimming, and Dean’s heart gets stuck in his throat. Gabriel is dying. He can’t move, can’t do anything, and Gabriel is dying.

It can’t be happening. There’s still so much Dean needs to say. To yell at him. The fucker can’t die now. Dean needs him alive.

“DEAN!”

Cas is close, now, God knows when he moved, and the demon smoke is hovering behind him. “Dean, listen to me,” Cas says, urgently, pulling Dean to a sitting position.

Pain flares in every nerve of Dean’s body. He lets out a groan.

“I’m sorry, there’s no time,” Cas whispers directly into his face. “Dean. Look at me, do you understand me?”

Dean has trouble keeping his head up. He tries, and fails, and Cas’s hands are suddenly on his cheeks, helping. He finds Cas’s eyes, and nods.

“Good.”

The smoke is curling around Gabriel’s body. Dean’s breath hitches.

“Eyes on me,” Cas says. “Dean. You’re a vessel. Gabriel’s dying.”

Dean gives him a confused look. _What can I do about it?_

“It’s a spell. He’s trapped. Dean, you were supposed to be Michael’s vessel. He’s way more powerful than Gabriel. Do you understand?”

But the smoke is attacking Gabriel’s body, and Dean can’t help the whine getting out of his throat. He doesn’t understand the words. He hears them, but they’re not going all the way into his brain.

Looks like Alastair found the crack he was looking for. _Christ_! Panic overcomes Dean, and he can’t do anything. He’s scared, and in pain, and disoriented, and powerless.

Gabriel’s dying.

“Dean! Focus!”

_Cas._ “Ca—Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. You need to say yes, you understand?”

The smoke has almost disappeared. Everything’s lost, and Dean almost drowns in despair, almost lets the darkness claim him just so he won’t have to look, but Cas’s words finally reach the still reasonable part of his brain.

“You have to say the words, Dean,” Cas insists.

Gabriel’s vessel open his eyes. Alastair got in.

“Ga—Gabriel,” Dean breathes. _Jesus_ , he’s so thirsty his tongue feels like it’s made out of plastic. “Gabriel, yes.” The little ball of light flutters, and stops. It’s almost like it’s hesitating.

“Gabriel, there’s no time for this now,” Castiel scolds the ball of light. This is surreal. “He gave his consent! Tell him, Dean!”

“I consent,” Dean forces his voice out. “Take my body. Gabriel, you sonuvabitch.” One sentence and he’s already out of breath. “Y’hear me? I con—I consent. Yes. Yes!”

The ball of light seems to vibrate, before it zooms in on Dean. Right before it reaches Dean’s chest, Gabriel’s body sits up, quirking an eyebrow at them.

It’s the last thing Dean sees.


	13. Comfortably Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta and I would like to apologize, like, on our knees, for the long wait between chapters. She's had personal problems, I've had personal problems, except nothing happened at the same time, and when I was available, she wasn't, and when she was, I wasn't. You know how life is. 
> 
> Anyway, I truly believe 2018 is going to be an awesome year, so I'll try my very very best to deliver a chapter every month/ every month and a half (they're 10K chapters, after all, they take time to make). So please, forgive us, and enjoy this chapter! 14 is already written and being beta'd as I'm typing this, so hopefully, you'll get another email notification in a month ;) 
> 
> For those who don't know, I do keep an update on the status of the fic on my tumblr, on the right side-bar, under the "currently writing" section. You can check it out at disizletzi.tumblr dot com. Thanks for your patience, and see you next month! :D
> 
>  
> 
> See the end of the chapter for trigger warnings

# CHAPTER 13: Comfortably Numb

 

There’s no pain.

No fear, no feelings.

No body.

No colors.

No Dean.

No concept of Dean, really, but it seems a bit wrong, somehow.

No time to dwell on it, though. Or all the time in the world.

It’s warm. Comfortable.

Like a nice bed. Or a nice dream.

 Like mom’s arms when things are sad. Like hot cocoa.

Like a frilly, girly drink stolen from Sam.

Sam is a person.

Sam is a brother.

Sam is a concept, like Dean. And if Sam exists, then Dean should exist, too. It’s like he was always there.

One second he’s immaterial, the next he’s there, but there’s nothing else beside him.

He doesn’t even have clothes, but it’s not like he has genitals either. He’s not sure why it should matter, anyway.

D E A N

He would look around, search for the source of the voice, if there was such a thing as ‘around’.

D E A N  A R E  Y O U A L L R I G H T

It’s not even English. Not a voice, either, but rather, a feeling. Of worry.

He projects his own confusion, and waits. There’s no time, here, but yeah. He waits.

DON’T BE AFRAID. IT’S ME. IT’S G A B R I E L

Gabriel. The name, or the feeling of the name, seems to echo inside him. Soon, he’s projecting worry and fear, even though he doesn’t exactly know why.

I’M O KAY. THANKS TO YOU.

It feels more like words, now, but Dean is still confused, and lost. He doesn’t remember much, only that this isn’t how a conversation is supposed to go.

Something shifts.

He’s sitting in a field, at a picnic table. He’s twelve and dad stopped at Dairy Queen and bought them ice creams. They looked for a rest stop to eat them properly, and they found this one. It has a small park. Dean likes it.  

He’s thirty again.

There’s a man standing a few feet away, his cherry-blond hair blown by the wind, his golden eyes twinkling with malice.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says, approaching him. “You’re a powerful vessel, and I haven’t changed in a long while.” He shrugs. “Haven’t shared with a soul in a while, come to think of it.”

“Where are we,” Dean asks as he watches Gabriel sit beside him.

Gabriel smiles, and pokes his forehead. “Here. We’re in your head.”

“Uh. You’re…” Dean frowns. “I let you in.”

“You did. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

There’s something like regret and guilt floating in the air.

“You were dying. I had to.” Gabriel gives him a sad smile, and before he can answer Dean adds, “I’m the only one who can kick your ass.”

This prompts a genuine, happy laugh from Gabriel. Dean finds himself smiling, too. There are ice creams in his hand, the faded red logo on it appearing and disappearing as Dean tries to focus on it. It won’t stay put. He hands one to Gabriel, who takes it with a happy hum.

“We still have a bit of time, here,” the angel says, digging into his ice cream. “Before we have to face Alastair.”

Alastair. Right. They’re in danger, aren’t they? And Cas is, too.

“We need to have a little chat, I think,” Gabriel goes on.

Dean is too busy rediscovering the bland taste of his Dairy Queen ice cream to pay too close attention to what Gabriel is saying.

“What about,” he asks, distracted.

It’s lacking whipped cream, he muses. As soon as he thinks about it, a nice, fluffy scoop of whipped cream appears on top. He hums happily.

“About us,” Gabriel says.

Guilt again, floating around. It’s just a feeling, but, somehow, it’s very clear to Dean.

It distracts him from his ice cream. “I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

Sadness.

“I think there’s a lot. Dean,” Gabriel turns to face him, “I know it’s difficult to focus right now, but we have to share this time together, so I would like to… have a real discussion.” His eyes search Dean’s face. “Who knows if we’ll still be here when this whole thing is over?”

And the sadness turns to resignation, followed by an odd satisfaction, the feeling of doing the right thing.

“You mean you think you won’t make it,” Dean frowns. And there’s something like panic dancing in his chest. “Even if you kill Alastair?”

Gabriel’s silent staring is answer enough. He’s going to sacrifice himself, the reckless asshole! After everything, he’s going to bail on Dean.

The sky darkens.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me, Gabe,” he growls. “We’re not done.”

“That’s why I want to set the record straight now,” Gabriel answers.

Heavy, grey clouds gather above them. It smells like rain and thunder. It feels appropriate, like a giant projection of Dean’s mood and emotions. And maybe that’s what it is. They’re in his head, after all.

“Please,” Gabriel stands. “We don’t have much time left.”

Dean huffs, trying to avoid his gaze. “We’ve got nothing to talk about,” he grunts, pushing away from the table.

He starts walking and walking. He doesn’t have to go too far before the field turns into a charming little park. There’s a tree with a swing hanging from it. Underneath, lays a blanket, pink and kind of ugly, but from where Dean stopped to observe the scene, it looks rather comfy. He doesn’t know this place.

“Yes, you do,” Gabriel says.

He’s standing next to Dean. Was he always there?

“I don’t remember it,” Dean answers.

“When you were little, before Sam was born, your mom liked to take you there,” Gabriel nods toward the right. “You used to play on these things for hours.”

It’s a children’s park. Not far from the tree, there’s a slide, and monkey bars.

Yeah. Kinda rings a bell.

Dean’s heart aches, briefly, as the image of his mom sitting on the blanket flickers in and out of existence. A few drops of rain fall, and the clouds are already scattering.

“Shall we sit?”

Dean startles. He eyes Gabe, and, despite the anger always simmering inside him when he looks at the angel, he finds that he’s also tired of all this bullshit. He nods, and walks to the blanket before sitting down.

It’s as comfortable as it looks.

Dean takes the time to lie down, to brace himself, and maybe to calm down a little. He notices the ice creams have disappeared, but he couldn’t care less.

Through the light green leaves of the tree above him, he sees that the sky is back to a nice shade of blue. There are still a few clouds floating around, but they’re white and small.

“Alright,” he says, eyes fixed on the sky. “Talk.”

Gabriel sighs. “I figured you’d be the one who’d have things to say to me.”

“Damn right I got things to say,” Dean scoffs.

“Then go ahead. I won’t interrupt.”

Biting on his lower lip, Dean inhales through his nose. Everything feels calm, here, the resentment and anger he’s been harboring for months seem old and pointless. He keeps holding on to them, though. They’ve been fighting inside him for so long, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to function without them.

He doesn’t know where to start. Doesn’t remember everything he wanted to say.

“I want to say I hate you,” he whispers. “But I’m not sure it’s true.”

“Even after what Alastair did to you?”

“Not your fault,” Dean says. And he means it. “And you were right. There was a reason to dig around.”

Gabriel finally lies down next to him, as if the guilt that’s been floating around is finally weighing on him too much.

They stay there in silence. Dean can’t voice everything he feels. He has an inkling that Gabriel knows, anyway. They’re sharing a body. It means they share a brain, too.

“Dean, I am so, so sorry. About everything.”

Here he goes again. Dean can’t help projecting his annoyance.

“I know.”

“I mean it. I thought that, maybe, here, you’d feel how much.”

“I can feel your guilt”, Dean shrugs. He can’t look at him, not yet. “Just means you’re sorry for yourself.”

Gabriel hums, accepting. For once, he doesn’t try to justify anything. Dean enjoys the silence. The ambiguity he feels toward Gabriel is still there. He’s not sure it’ll ever leave. He does have some good memories with him, but they’re all bitter sweet.

Here, though, he feels protected. Like his insecurities are on hold.

“Say,” he hesitates. “Whatever happens in here… nobody’s going to know about it, right?”

Gabriel hums.

“And we won’t talk about it, whatever happens.”

“If you don’t want to, no.”

“Okay.”

As quick as he can, he turns on his side, lays his head on Gabriel’s chest, and wraps an arm around his middle. God, does it feel good!

Gabriel radiates surprise and hesitance, and he doesn’t move for a long while. Until, without rushing, he finally holds Dean, too.

“What’s this about,” he asks.

Dean huffs. As if he wasn’t able to feel his longing, almost as strong as his anger. How much he missed this.

“You know what it’s about.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

Gabriel chuckles, “Yes.”

The ‘sorry’ that he wants to let out stays unspoken, but Dean can feel it hovering playfully between them.

Dean relaxes. There’s no smell, here. It’s the only thing he regrets.

As soon as he thinks it, the smell of Gabriel’s skin hits him, and he closes his eyes. It’s crazy, how fast relief flows through him. Everything seems to soften around him, even the blanket they’re lying on. Even the clothes on his back.

When he opens his eyes, he’s not in the park anymore. First, he’s naked, which, he feels like, should be weird, but isn’t. Not really. Not even the fact that he’s lying on Gabriel’s naked chest, and they’re only covered up to their hips by red satin sheets, in a big canopy bed.

In Gabriel’s bed.

It should surprise him, but it feels natural, somehow. Old, nostalgic feelings of the sweaty slide of skin, of pleasure and of comfort assault him, immediately replaced by the bitter taste of betrayal and repulsion in his mouth.

It’s followed by guilt, sorrow, and regrets, but it’s not coming from Dean this time.

Dean clears his throat. “Am I… doing this?”

He means the change in location, but he doesn’t need to spell it out. By now, he understands they both share their thoughts. Or at least their feelings, if not the exact words going through their single brain.

“Yes,” Gabriel answers.

He’s pleased with the change of scenery, Dean can tell, although the underlying feeling of guilt is still there. It never really goes away, actually.

“So I want to be here,” Dean goes on, quietly. “In your bed.”

“Looks like it.”

Dean scoffs. Typical, really. Amusement floats his way, and he smiles. He missed this. Missed how unnaturally hot Gabe feels. How soft his skin is… he shouldn’t like this.

 _God!_ He has so many things to say! It’s frustrating to be at a loss for words.

“You know, if it helps,” Gabriel says, very carefully, “maybe thinking about what you want to say, or how you feel… I’ll know. Maybe it will be easier,” he offers.

Dean considers it. Inside his own melon, he doesn’t need to pretend anything. To not be into sharing his feelings. He knows nobody’s going to judge him.

First, he thinks about Jason. The empathetic pain he felt for the guy when Alastair took over his body.

Then he thinks about what happened at the hotel. He can still picture it, seeing only the back of Gabriel’s head in the perfect white hotel room, on the perfect white couch, and Jason’s head bobbing enthusiastically. The sheer disgust, and the burning jealousy that spread through Dean’s limbs and rooted him to the spot for a few seconds at the sight. Gabriel’s moan, the one that broke his heart and made him move again. The devastation, the shame, the _ridiculous_ tears that he hadn’t been able to hold back.

And, worst of all, the betrayal. The realization that, once Gabriel couldn’t use the case to fuck Dean, he immediately jumped on the first guy he could get his hands on.

With a breath, he takes his distance from the memories. In here, they’re pretty vivid, and it’s easy to get lost in them. It’s like watching a movie, and being the main actor at the same time.

He lets them float away, and waits for Gabriel’s take on things. The angel got really tense while Dean was reminiscing. Dean suspects he can’t really up and bail, this time. It doesn’t feel like he wants to, anyway. He still believes he’s about to make his dying confession.

For a time, nothing happens. Then it’s like Dean stepped into a TV, like the scene he’s witnessing enveloped him until he’s fully immersed.

Guilt is strong around him. He ignores it, looks around. He’s in the hotel room, and Gabriel is alone. The angel feels lost, and wrong, like everything he touches goes to shit. And the fact that he has this new slave on his arms, Jason, is making him so anxious he can’t do anything besides sit there on the white couch and wait for Dean to calm down and come back. Maybe he’ll know what to do.

 _Uh_. Dean looks at Gabriel, alone, hunching on himself, and he wonders how he never saw how insecure Gabriel’s been feeling all this time.

Then Jason comes into the room, and kneels in front of Gabriel, and he looks so much like Dean, like an imperfect version of him, that when he asks – begs, really – Gabriel to let him suck his dick, the angel cannot resist.

Dean doesn’t want him, won’t ever want him again, so maybe indulging in this will alleviate the pain. It doesn’t. Not this time. Not the times after. Gabriel tries, and tries, and the memories change, one after the other in a blur, of Jason and Gabriel having sex, of Gabriel trying to recreate the dynamic there was between him and Dean.

Every time, he feels worse and worse. He kind of wallows in it, in how shitty he feels. Until Dean gets taken. He realizes, then, that he needs to take the situation in his own hands. He needs to act.

“This is bullshit,” Dean says, renewed anger pulsing through him.

The scene dissolves around him. He’s in Gabriel’s bed again.

“Things aren’t going your way so you sleep with the first guy available?” Dean scoffs, “As excuses go, this one’s pretty weak.”

“I never pretended it was a good one,” Gabriel answers. His arm slips from Dean’s back. This isn’t amusing anymore. “It’s how I felt at the time.”

Dean’s not convinced, but like always, he swallows his feelings. He could almost forget Gabriel knows every little thought of his in here. _Shit_. So, yeah, he can’t really let it slide. He doesn’t want to, anyway.

“How do you feel, now?”

“Like an ass,” Gabriel answers.

He’s still tense, but there’s an edge of playfulness to his voice. He really does feel like an ass.

The guilt is still there, but when he thinks about Jason there’s also sadness, regret, and he wishes he could go back in time and say ‘no’ to the guy. Which is too little, too late for Dean, but at least he’s sure Gabriel is sincere.

“Alright,” he sighs.

There’s still a bitter after taste in the back of his mouth, but now that they’ve opened up to each other, he has to admit a small weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Gabriel’s arm slowly slides back around him.

“We really need to talk about… everything,” Dean says, voice small. “Don’t we?”

Gabriel only hums, affirmatively, and Dean’s stomach seems to drop. He doesn’t want to think about _it_. Not yet.

Distantly, almost shyly, comes a feeling of warmth and comfort. Dean closes his eyes, and embraces it.

“You want me to go on?” Gabriel asks, quietly.

Dean only nods. When he opens his eyes a second later, he’s standing - floating? Is he really there? -  in Gabriel’s study. Gabriel is excited, and happy, and impatient, and thoughts of Dean seem to keep him bouncing around the room in childish glee.

Until, that is, Jordan bursts into the room, babbling and crying about Dean, about how he left. Then it’s like the ground opened up under Gabriel’s feet, and he’s falling and falling into a pit of incomprehension and despair, rage and grief overcoming all of his senses.

“I don’t wanna see any more of this,” Dean says, throat tight.

Gabriel’s presence pulls away, and the memory blurs, until Dean projects his own of that night. It’s not a full memory, but rather an impression, subtle and soft, a sort of summary of everything he felt that night, and the night before when he had to say goodbye.

When he’s done, and they’re back in the present in each other’s arms, they’re silent for a long, long while. They speak with their hands, rather than with their mouths and minds. Gabriel holds him tighter, rubbing his back, fingers dancing on Dean’s skin, while Dean lets his lips rest on Gabriel’s chest, just shy of his heart.

He still doesn’t feel like there’s hope that something will happen between them. Dean’s not delusional. Too many things happened for their relationship to go back to what it was, but he’s strangely okay with that. For now, he just wants to be at peace. He wants to let go of the anger and the memories of pain that he now associates with Gabriel.

A pang of sadness suddenly pops between them, and Dean rubs his cheek on the angel’s chest, just once, because it’s the only thing he can do to make him understand that this is not a bad thing. It’s a step in the right direction.

Gabriel only emotes a quiet understanding.

“I need…” he starts, then stops himself.

When Dean looks up at him, he’s biting on his lower lip. “What?”

“I need to show you something,” Gabriel sighs. “But I don’t want you to think I’m finding excuses for myself… I just want to explain what happened.”

Dean hums, slowly. He’s not sure he wants to see what Gabriel has to show him, his first reaction being a knee-jerk feeling of rejection. But he’s also curious.

“You know that, whatever you show me, whatever you say,” Dean tells Gabriel, carefully, “I’m never going to forget what you did to me, right?”

It takes a second for Gabriel to answer. He lies back, and closes his eyes, “I know.”

“Okay.” Dean licks his lips. Gabriel keeps his eyes closed. “Go ahead, then.”

With a loud sigh, Gabriel straightens up. The world dissolves around them, once again, and before Dean can get ready, they’re standing in the lobby of Lucifer’s mansion. Dean almost throws up right there and then.

For a few seconds, he’s dizzy, stomach lurching, paralyzed by fear. Obviously, Gabriel can feel it. He eyes Dean, worried, and he hesitates to move, to come close and rub Dean’s back. But even if he did try, Dean wouldn’t let him. He really doesn’t need it right at this moment. He talks himself into a better state of mind, reminding himself that it’s just a memory. It’s not real. It’s all in the past. Lucifer is dead. It’s not real.

Only then does he realize that there’s another Gabriel standing there with them. The angel’s past self, waiting. Anxiety and fear comes off him in waves as he’s standing there.

“When was that,” Dean asks, and he’s almost whispering.

“Right after you escaped.”

A slave comes. A girl. Dean doesn’t know her. His heart aches when he understands that she probably died a little while after this memory happened. She’s probably the one Meg was replacing. She looks frail, weak, and sick.

Past Gabriel follows her, so Dean does the same, with Gabriel in tow. They walk around the mansion, along the cold, labyrinth-like corridors, and Dean’s a bit relieved to realize he doesn’t really remember which one goes where.

They finally reach the library where Lucifer receives – no, received – people. As he usually did, Lucifer is sitting in his throne-like armchair, pretending nonchalantly to read a book. Dean has to look away, or else his heart might explode from the stress.

“Leave,” Lucifer tells the slave girl, and Dean jumps.

He forgot she was there with them. He forgot everything, standing there in front of Lucifer. He seems so real. It’s getting difficult to remember it’s all just a dream, a memory. It even looks like Lucifer is staring directly at him, and not at Gabriel’s past self, standing awkwardly near the door.

The slave leaves, rushing out the door, closing it behind her. Lucifer puts his book down, giving Gabriel a dramatic once-over. There’s nothing sexual about it, though. Everything about Lucifer is predatory, even his smug, satisfied smile.

“Gabriel,” he greets.

Past-Gabriel is scared shitless. Dean’s never felt a fear so shattering before, except inside himself. Alastair is the only one other than Lucifer that gave him such a powerful feeling of fear.

“I heard about your little spy’s escape,” Lucifer goes on. “I’m guessing you’re here to apologize.”

Gabriel, the one standing next to Dean, is very pissed, looking at the scene. His past self is terrified.

“Yes,” he whispers.

The scene wavers, to Dean’s surprise. “What’s happening?”

“I can’t—” Gabriel utters, teeth gritting so hard he can barely speak. He’s _angry_. “Sorry,” he lets out a breath, and the room around them stabilizes, comes back to normal.

Dean shifts on his feet, “You don’t have to show me if you—”

“Yes, I do.”

“I tried to be patient with you,” Lucifer says. And now Gabriel is more indignant than pissed. His past self is still reeking of fear, “You’re aware I let you win the bid on Dean, right? I knew you wanted him. I let you have him.”

This surprises Dean. He barely remembers the day he was bought, mostly because he’d rather not think about it, but he doesn’t remember having seen Lucifer there.

“I knew you were soft,” the angel goes on, “but I thought at least you were the best suited to keep an eye on him. You disappointed me on that. You even took his side. I’m still not sure I can forgive that just yet.”

Past-Gabriel tries to hold Lucifer’s gaze, but he can’t do it for long, and soon his eyes dart to his feet. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to have Lucifer smirking, satisfied.

“You lost any right you had to him from the moment you lost him,” he tells Gabriel, imperiously. “So now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to put a price on his head. A good one, so that demons, humans and even angels alike will turn the country upside down to find him. And when they bring him back to you you’re going to punish him as he should have been a long time ago.”

Gabriel opens his mouth at that, ready to protest but Lucifer raises his hand and his glare turns cold so Gabriel shuts his mouth right away. Dean gives his Gabriel a look, but the angel’s eyes are fixed on the scene. Dean can almost feel him vibrate with rage.

“You don’t get to make any objections,” Lucifer says. “You lost that right, I told you. You _are_ going to punish him. I don’t care if you do it yourself or not, but he’s going to suffer for everything he’s done, and we’ll both be there to witness it. Is that clear?”

Past-Gabriel nods, defeated.

Dean huffs, “Is that what you wanted me to see? That Lucifer made you punish me?”

Gabriel finally looks at him, slowly, like it’s painful for him to even move. “Yes. Can you blame me?”

No, Dean can’t say that he can. He understands the sentiment, at least, understand on an intellectual level that Gabriel was scared, and subdued, and felt in that moment that he had to do what Lucifer told him or else… something bad would happen.

But truly? Dean couldn’t give a single fuck. He’s still angry, and he won’t ever be able to forgive what happened. Nothing will change that.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” Gabriel whispers. “I just wanted you to have all the cards in hand to understand what happened.”

“And when it’s done,” Lucifer speaks again, startling Dean. “You’re going to lend him to me.”

Past-Gabriel literally freezes before his eyes, and Dean could swear he felt the same, icy dread that he felt at this moment run through his own body.

“I’ll give him back!” Lucifer exclaims with a smile, noticing Gabriel’s reaction. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill him. But he needs to be trained, and you just don’t know how to properly do that so I’ll take care of it. See this as a kind of… brotherly gesture. I’ll let you keep him once I’m done. But know that if you fail to follow these instructions there will be no forgiveness. I would be very disappointed in you, and knowing myself I wouldn’t like the feeling. Who knows what I’d be capable of doing then?”

He grins, wildly, and the memory starts dissolving. Gabriel is angry, shaking his head. He can’t sustain the memory anymore.

“I won’t disappoint you,” comes past-Gabriel’s voice, like an echo. “I’ll do it. Whatever you ask.”

They’re back in Gabriel’s bed.

Silence grows again, surrounding them. And Dean’s thoughts take over. It’s true that they should talk, but do they have to talk about everything? About… stuff that happened after Dean escaped? There’s no way he can ever forgive Gabriel about this. It will always stay with them. There will always be anger inside Dean when he thinks about it. Anger, and shame, and pain.

What Gabriel just showed him won’t change anything.

“We’ll have to talk about Lucifer, eventually,” Gabriel whispers.

He’s scared that Dean will draw away. Dean wants to. But it’s almost like he can’t. It’s like hearing _His_ name sends him back there, and he always needs a couple of seconds to find his footing again when it happens.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he snaps back. “Don’t you have a demon to take care of?” Pushing away from Gabriel, he sits up, his back to him. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

“You know it’s doing you some good,” Gabriel just answers. “I can feel it. And it’s good for me, too.”

Scoffing, Dean rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Listen,” he grunts, turning around. It strikes him, all of a sudden, how beautiful Gabriel is. Glowing. Other-worldly. He’s just Dean’s memory of him, in here. “This whole little…” he waves around, “distraction. It’s all nice and good, but we’ve got Alastair to take care of. There’s nothing more important than that!”

Gabriel cants his head on the side. “You’re more important, Kiddo. Killing Alastair is important, but I don’t wanna harm you in the process.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Gabriel sighs, “that you’re not my true vessel. If I push too hard and you don’t trust me a hundred percent… we could both explode.” A small, amused smile tugs at his lips when he notices Dean’s eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Literally.”

“Great.”

“We still have some time. Barely a half of a millisecond has passed in reality.”

 _Great_ , Dean thinks again. _Awesome_.

Now he’s stuck in a friggin’ time loop, inside his own head, and the worst part is, even here he can’t be allowed clothes. Dignity.

“You chose to be here, like this,” Gabriel remarks.

“Shuddup.”

“I’m just saying.”

“So what,” Dean frowns. “You mean I want you and me to be naked? In bed? Together?”

Gabriel wriggles his eyebrows, which in turn makes Dean roll his eyes.

“I’m not making the rules,” the angel says.

 _Typical, really._ Just Dean’s type to go lusting after the guy who made his life miserable. Except… he’s not really lusting after him, is he? He can’t get it up. Won’t ever be able to, feels like. Although, they’re in his head, now. Maybe here he could—

“Dean, no,” Gabriel says, firmly. “I won’t take advantage.”

Dean huffs. “ _Now_ that’s a problem,” he snorts. “Didn’t bother you before.”

Guilt surrounds him at the words, the feel of it nauseating. He lets out a bitter laugh, “Right.”

Gabriel looks like he wants to answer something, and Dean kinda wishes he would, so that he could explode, finally. Be angry, once and for all. But nothing comes.

He’s been angry for so long, anyway. It’s not like it would help to yell at Gabriel some more. Probably not.

He tries to sound the air, see what Gabriel’s thinking. But there’s nothing. Even the guilt isn’t here anymore. “What are you hiding?”

Frowning like he doesn’t understand, Gabriel shrugs, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Dean says, turning to Gabriel completely in annoyance.

For a second, he forgets he’s naked. The sheets slip, and he catches them at the last second. “I could read you like an open book a second ago, and now zilch!”

As much as Dean would like to get out of here, go on with the demon killing, he’s curious, now. He kind of got used to having Gabe’s feelings around, as proof that the angel’s not a heartless bastard. And he can’t lie, like this.

Gabriel scratches the back of his head with a sigh. “It’s never easy to admit when… when you make a mistake. And in my case,” he gives Dean a sheepish look from under his eyelashes, “I’ve made enough for two or three lifetimes. I know that.”

Dean nods, warily.

“I feel the weight of them,” Gabriel goes on, “every single day. But I realize… I apologized to you, but I’ve never admitted anything. I never told you how much of an ass I’ve been, I know that now.”

“Great,” Dean huffs.

Saying it won’t make it any better, that’s for sure. Gabriel seems to sense his thoughts, and he grimaces.

“I want to make it up to you. I just…” he sighs, “I just don’t know how.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn’t comment.  He’s angry. So fucking angry, after everything Gabriel did to him, and he’s not sure they can come back from it. He can feel that’s what Gabe is trying to do, but it won’t work. It’s not possible.

He doesn’t want to think about his anger anymore, doesn’t want to talk, really, but they still need to have a proper heart-to-heart. There’s no way Gabriel will let him rest until they’ve finished their talk. Until Dean gets everything out of his system.

He has to talk about it. Will have to, at some point, so why not do it now? Rip it out of himself, like a Band-Aid. Probably won’t hurt any less, but at least it’ll be done.

“Dean,” Gabriel says, quietly, a question in the tone of his voice.

“Okay, so…” Dean clears his throat, and hugs his knees. “Lucifer.”

A shiver runs through him. Gabriel’s expression changes for a second, aborted surprise, there one second, and gone the next. “Yes,” he breathes.

Dean braces himself. It takes a while for his voice to be functional again. Gabriel is patient. He just waits.

“I just,” Dean says, fighting to keep his voice steady, “need a second.”

Thankfully, Gabriel doesn’t say anything. So Dean takes a breath, counts to three, and dives into the first memory that’s been struggling to come out ever since Gabriel showed him his memory with Lucifer.

It slaps him in the face, everything coming back so vividly that he can even smell the cheap soap he and Meg used to shower, right before this.

Lucifer is standing behind Meg, who’s waiting on all fours on the bed, naked, and he’s about to push his pants down, and Dean can’t let it happen.

“Please, stop, I’ll do anything you want,” he blurts out.

Lucifer freezes, and he turns to Dean.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” Dean goes on, desperate. “Please don’t do that to her, it’s my fault. It’s me. I’ll do anything.”

Gabriel is just a ghostly presence behind Dean. Dean is barely there himself. For the first time since they’ve been dabbling in memories, it’s like he’s back there. Like his present-self melted into his past-self.

He feels so guilty. God! He feels so fucking guilty. It’s not Meg’s fault. She told him Lucifer never used her, and she was happy about it. For the first time in her life, her Master didn’t want to abuse her, and use her ass, and now Dean went and ruined everything.

“Dean, shut your fucking mouth,” Meg breathes.

But Dean doesn’t listen. He can’t let it happen to her, “Please, Master.”

Interested, now, Lucifer, straightens up. His hand is on Meg’s ass. Dean is going to throw up. “Anything?”

Meg squirms, “No!”

“Anything,” Dean says with more conviction than he feels.

Lucifer is considering, and from this outside point of view, Dean sees the moment the angel makes his decision. The corner of his lips lifts, slightly, in satisfaction.

“Get dressed,” he tells Meg, “and get out of here.”

He’s already moving off the bed, and Meg follows, awkwardly picking up her dress from the floor.

“Please, Master,” she pleads as she puts it back on. “I’m the one who woke Dean up, please. He didn’t know--”

“Get out.”

“Please, let him go, I convinced him to touch me but he didn’t even want—”

Lucifer backhands her, cutting her off. She sways on her feet, momentarily stunned.

“You’re making things worse for him, Girl. I said, get out.”

Defeated, Meg turns around. She doesn’t look at Dean. Somehow, he thinks she wants to, but is just scared to make it even worse. Soon, he’s alone with Lucifer.

Well, not alone. Gabriel is here with him. It’s just a memory, and being reminded of it allows Dean to step out of his own, past shadow, and take the passenger seat, so to speak. It’s even weirder like this.

“On the bed,” Lucifer says, eyes cold as they travel along Dean’s body.

Dean, the Dean watching this from afar, watching himself frozen in place, standing naked in front of the giant bed covered in black silk sheets, is paralyzed. All he wants to do is close his eyes, leave the memory, but he has to show Gabriel. He has to. So that Gabriel will know. Will see for himself, what he did to Dean when he gave him to Lucifer.

Lucifer nods toward the door, where Meg disappeared a second before. “You offered to take her place, remember? Now go before I put you there myself.”

“Dean,” Gabriel whispers, distress clear in his voice.

He’s right there, right next to Actual-Dean, his body pressing against him.

“You need to see this,” Dean answers.

And he tries to melt into the memory, to disappear again, so that Gabriel will focus. It doesn’t work anymore. He watches himself walk to the bed, climb on it, and present his ass to Lucifer, his whole skinny, scrawny body shaking with fear. He looks pathetic.

“Not like this. On your back. I want to look at you.”

The memory plays out, and Dean sees the resolution in his own eyes, as his double looks up at Lucifer. He remembers thinking he could do this, he could take the punishment for Meg. And he sees, remembers exactly the second he knew it would be too much, the moment he just wanted to flee. He recognizes the fear on his own face, sees it when it turns to incredulity. His own thought of ‘this can’t be happening. This won’t happen, Lucifer is just going to stop and laugh because this is all a big joke’ floats around.

Gabriel’s breathing gets heavy behind him. From fear and distress and disgust. With himself. With his brother. He’s glad Michael killed him, all of a sudden. Until now, he was ambivalent toward what happened, but now he’s glad. If he could, he would murder Lucifer all over again, in a hundred different ways.

Only when Dean screams in agony, as Lucifer enters him, do Gabriel’s thoughts stop. His mind goes blank. Or rather, he hides his feelings again. Like he can’t stand to have them out in the open.

“Dean, please,” he says, voice hoarse. “That’s enough. I can’t see any more.”

It takes Dean a lot of willpower to pull away. It’s like he can’t move. Like he’s enduring it all over again.

“Please,” Gabriel repeats.

It’s like waking up from a dream only to realize that you’re still half asleep and you can’t move. Dean pushes against his own body, pushes and pushes and pushes until he manages to move, to turn around. Only when he buries his face against Gabriel’s neck do the sounds of skin on skin and his own muffled screams stop.

He’s shaking. For real. Or as real as this inner world is. He’s shaking like a leaf, tears threatening to spill. He holds them back, but tightens his grip on Gabriel. They’re naked again. Sitting on the canopy bed. They’re back in Gabriel’s room.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean breathes, because he needs to say something. The silence is too heavy, and the nothingness coming from Gabriel isn’t reassuring, at all.

But peeling away from Gabe seems impossible, right at this moment. So he stays right where he is, and he breathes Gabriel in, until his heart comes back to a reasonable pace.

“Man,” he sighs, finally straightening up to look at Gabriel.

What he sees stops him from saying anything else.

Gabriel is crying.

Actual tears are rolling down his cheeks, and he’s looking down, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says, not even trying to wipe the tears away. “I knew he…” He stops, exhales. “But I didn’t imagine… It was easier to just not think about it. I’m so sorry…”

Dean can’t hide how unsettled he feels, how he’s still shaking because of the shame and the memories of pain. He can chose not to show anything, though.

He shrugs, “It’s done. Nothin’ you can do ‘bout it, now.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “I was so, so angry. For nothing.” He finally wipes his face. “This whole article thing didn’t make any sense but I was so ready to believe it! I thought it would be the end of me, and of the Council, but now…” He scoffs. “The news doesn’t even cover the riots anymore.” Looking up, he gives Dean a pleading look. “I let you go through all of this for nothing. Because I was too proud.”

What can Dean answer to that? It’s the truth. He can’t deny it. “I’m glad you can see it, now.”

“But it’s too late,” Gabriel finishes for him. “I-I know. I know, Dean, you’ve been so-so graceful. And I’ve only been… selfish. A coward. Everything you did for me and I—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “I make everything about myself, don’t I? Dean, I just… I didn’t realize until now, I thought—”

“Then stop fucking talking about yourself, Goddammit,” Dean explodes.  

Gabriel startles. He nods. “Yes. I—You. You’ve been very brave throughout everything. You changed our lives, the lives of everyone back home. Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

Dean hums. What can he answer to that? He’s not even sure how to take it, if he’s happy about it, if he’s embarrassed… truth is, he’s just tired. Of everything. Of this fucking discussion that’s going nowhere. He wants it to end.

Time to give the reins over to Gabe. Let him stir this boat, and do what he has to. And to be able to do that, Dean has to let go of all his baggage. All his anger.

“I think there’s one last thing I want you to see.”

Gabriel nods again, subdued. “We’re almost out of time, anyway.”

“You won’t like it,” Dean says again. “But I need you to feel it.”

Gabriel nods, “I think I know where this is going. I understand.”

No time to waste, then. Dean dives into the memory head first. The pain is just in his head, and he won’t feel it. Not really. Not fully. If he keeps repeating it to himself, maybe it won’t affect him as much.

They’re in the mansion’s courtyard, behind the house, under the willow tree. The other slaves are lined up in front of the house, and Victor is walking to them to join them. Dean, his past-self, is being pushed forward by Zachariah. Past-Gabriel is standing next to Lucifer. Everything is quiet, safe for the birds singing their song, unaware of what’s about to happen. Early spring is here, after all, why shouldn’t they sing?

The sight of the wooden pole planted in the middle of the courtyard makes Dean’s stomach churn.

Regret and guilt are strongly coming off Gabriel, actual-Gabriel standing next to actual-Dean, and it hits Dean almost physically, burning his skin.

Until Gabriel shuts everything off.

Dean doesn’t comment. He just projects a slight discomfort.

Past-Dean looks frantically around, fear apparent on his face, “What is happening? Where is Castiel? I wanna talk to him!”

His confusion and distress is very clear, but so far his fear is held back by a sliver of hope. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him. Dean almost feels a pang of pity toward his past self. It seems glaringly obvious, months after the facts, what this whole set up was for. But past-Dean was naïve, still, and he still believed in his freedom. He couldn’t have imagined the pain he was about to experience.

Lucifer scoffs, “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Little Thief.”

Past-Dean has a visible shiver that echoes in Present-Dean. Hearing Lucifer’s voice, even knowing that he’s dead, always startles him. It makes his skin crawl, makes him want to run far, far away.

“We found him,” Lucifer goes on. “We know what you did.”

Past-Dean furrows his brow in confusion. “What?”

Now, panic is added to the jumble of emotions past-Dean is feeling. He keeps staring at Gabriel, a plea and clear interrogation written all over his face. But past-Gabriel doesn’t bulge. His gaze is directed somewhere above Dean’s head, and his features harden.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Lucifer sneers, “we found Castiel’s body. It’s over.”

“What do you mean, ‘his body’?” Past-Dean blurts.

Dean sneaks a peek at Gabriel next to him, but nothing shows on his face. He’s strikingly similar to his past-self like this, and Dean’s heart skips a beat. Gabriel winces, giving Dean an apologetic turn of lips.

Farther away, the scene goes on, but Dean is much more interested in the present, in Gabriel next to him.

“Why are you hiding your feelings?”

Gabriel shrugs, “I don’t want to add to your distress.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t play dumb,” past-Gabriel bursts, the first clue that he’s actually feeling something. His mouth twists in disgust. “You know he’s dead!”

The betrayal and anger coming off of him suddenly mixes with past-Dean’s confusion, his sudden understanding, and the gaping desperation that overwhelms him as the hope he still had that Cas could save him is snuffed out.

“What,” Dean repeats, his voice cracking.

“Dude,” present-Dean says, tearing his eyes away from the scene.

His past feelings are suffocating, but there’s no point in re-living them if he can’t know how Gabriel feels about them. “I thought the whole point of us talking was to come clean to each other!”

He projects his anger, pushes it at Gabriel. The angel winces again.

“I can’t, Dean,” he says, “it’s too much.”

“And you think this isn’t too much for me?” Dean raises his voice, pointing at his past-self currently frozen in place by Lucifer’s Grace.  Panic blooms around them, almost choking present Dean with the force of it.

This is the moment he wanted Gabriel to experience. But the angel is closing off, now more than ever.

“You can’t do this, Gabriel”, Dean’s past self begs. “You can’t do this, it’s not how you do things, I know you can’t—”

But Lucifer is gripping his throat, and he can’t talk anymore.

Dean didn’t know it at the time, didn’t realize, but this is the moment where he lost his faith in Gabriel. Betrayal flares hot between their past-selves, and past-Dean loses all hope. For the first time in a long while, he loses all hope, all will. There’s still defiance in his gaze, in his mind, but it’s just a last somersault of life, just survival instinct. He has nothing left to fight for.

Present-Gabriel is still beside Dean. He looks like a colorful statue like this. Dean is getting _pissed_ that he’s not getting a reaction, and the memory starts to blur, ready to disappear.

“You’re just gonna stand there,” he spits, cold fury taking over. “Really?”

Gabriel doesn’t move. His eyes are getting wet.

Dean pushes him, violently. “Say something!”

The memory is shaky, as if seen through a fog, but it still plays out. Only the sound of their voices are drowned out, as if their past selves were under water.

Doesn’t stop Dean from flinching when the first stroke of the whip resonates and past-Dean yelps in surprise and pain. A deep, searing pain, that echoes inside Dean’s body. He’s out of breath, suddenly. As if he’s been struck, too.

He’s starting to panic.

“You asshole,” he pushes, blood pumping through his veins so hard he starts shaking. “You’re a coward! You’re a fucking coward!”

Another strike of whip resonates in the air, and Dean jumps slightly. He feels this one, too. It echoes into his bones.

“Dean,” Gabriel begs, avoiding his eyes.

Dean punches Gabriel in the chest. The angel doesn’t move, just steps back with the force of the blow, going along with it. The memory is disappearing into nothingness, their surroundings turning white.

“I can’t believe I thought you could feel something,” Dean explodes. “You’re just a coward, you’re no better than your asshole brothers!”

“Dean, please, stop,” Gabriel says, weak.

He’s finally looking at Dean. Dean’s body won’t move, tension running so high through it, his muscles wound so tight they hurt.

“Then give me something,” he yells. “Give me something you fucking cowardly asshole!”

Dean’s not ready.

He’s not ready for the colors to assault him, and at first he doesn’t understand them. They hit him and he’s falling into nothingness. Panic grips his heart like a vice, until Gabriel’s hand reappears in his.

“Breathe,” he says, his eyes boring into Dean’s. “Feel.”

He would laugh if he wasn’t scared shitless, but as things are right this second, he can do nothing but stare wide-eyed at Gabriel’s form, at the colors in front of him melting into each other, until everything turns a muddy color.

“We’re in _your_ mind. You’re the one in control.”

But the colors are fading to a deep, all-encompassing black. Like a void. A pit. A vacuum of darkness, swallowing him whole.

“We’re in your mind.”

It’s taking him apart. He’s disappearing in this void.

“Breathe.”

Easier said than done. Dean’s body is being pulled apart.

“You’re in control. Feel.”

It’s a Herculean effort. It takes all he has left, to face the darkness and find all parts of himself to pull them back together.

“Your mind.”

Once his lungs are back, functioning again, Dean takes a big breath. It feels like being born again. It’s amazing and terrifying at the same time.

“Control it. Feel.”

“Fuck,” Dean answers, and the panic abates when he can see that he’s whole. “Shut up! I’m trying!”

Amusement curls around him, like a warm blanket. He’s still in the dark, and Gabe is nowhere to be seen, but he feels better already. More in control.

“Feel. Don’t use your eyes. They’re lying to you.”

Dean’s aware he’s been angry like never before a few minutes ago – or was it hours? –  but he can barely remember why.

“Fuck you,” he sighs, matter-of-factly.

“We don’t have much time left,” Gabriel’s voice answers. “You wanted to know.”

“It’s too much,” Dean says, and the darkness presses on him again. “I can’t take it.”

“I told you. You wanted to know,” Gabriel repeats. “Focus.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Despite the banter, and the sense of danger coming from the darkness all around, Dean actually listens to Gabriel, for once.

He closes his eyes, and uses his senses. Gabriel is right. Dean can _feel_ the colors. They’re not actually black. They’re deep red, deep purple, deep blue, deep green.

He blinks, looking around again, only to realize he’s floating in space. Or, not in space, per se. Rather, it’s like he’s floating in the vast expanse of his own mind, surrounded by Gabriel’s feelings. It looks like being surrounded by colorful clouds and bright, flaring stars, as some emotions only surface in small bursts of light.

“I see it,” he whispers in wonder, scared that if he speaks too loud, it’ll all disappear.

“Now, feel.”

“I’m scared,” Dean says. It’s like someone’s forcing the words out. He didn’t mean to say that. “Where are you?”

“There’s no time.” Gabriel sounds regretful. “My Grace is settling in. We’ll be back to reality soon.” There’s something in the air. It feels like a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “Please, Dean. Can you focus for me?”

With a sigh, Dean nods. “I just don’t know how.”

“You’ll figure it out. I trust you.”

The sense of urgency coming off Gabriel is growing fast, now, so Dean listens, and tries to concentrate. It’s getting more and more difficult. He’s losing his grip on his own mind, and it scares him more than anything.

He focuses on the colors. Somehow, they have to mean something. He needs to pull them together. The sum of them, that’s what he’s after. He just needs to figure out how to get to that point.

Gabriel seems to hum his approval without making a sound. The air vibrates around Dean, warm and positive.

Dean is boosted by it.

He flies closer to the clusters of colorful dust. They’re in his mind, right? If he thinks about the clouds of dust coming together, then they will. He can Jedi Mind Trick them, he knows.

Gabriel laughs.

MORE OR LESS

So Dean thinks at the clouds. He thinks really hard at them, so hard that in real life he would’ve probably shit himself from pushing so hard.

“Why is it,” he huffs, “that it was so easy… to feel what you felt… before… and now it’s like I’m trying… to pull it out of your ass?”

IT HAS TO BE E A R N E D

“Why?” Yeah, he’s whining. But this is hard, harder than these kind of things ought to be, and they’re running out of time. He hates being on the clock, hates hearing its metaphorical ticking getting closer and closer. “Don’t you think I earned whatever it is you wanna show me by now?”

F O C U S

“I am focusing!”

Going back to it is way harder, now. It’s like his brain is tired.

FE E L

That’s all he’s doing, trying to feel. But they’re just clouds, for fuck’s sake! How can he feel them?

DON’T USE YOUR EY ES. THEY’RE L Y I N G

It’s not like he has _actual_ eyes in there, but okay. He closes them, tunes everything out. The infinite vastness of his mind is closing on him, already. It’s getting smaller.

F E E L

“Shhh!”

He can’t be interrupted, now. He’s almost there. Time’s almost up. Gabriel’s presence hovers somewhere behind Dean, curiosity and impatience strongly emanating from him.

Dean can almost taste the colors, like this. They’re pulling together, alright, but it’s so slow it’s almost imperceptible. He’s slightly annoyed by it, so he doubles his efforts and thinks, thinks, thinks.

And it works.

With great difficulty, but it _works_.

The colors are coming together, and even behind his eyelids, Dean can see the world turning white.

“It’s working,” he laughs. “Gabe! It’s working!”

FEE L I T

He tries. Focuses on the sum of all the emotions, tuning out each individual thought, and memory. And it strikes him. All at once, in a great, white wave of pure feeling.

Love.

At first, it’s startling. Mostly because it’s made out of frustration, and sadness, grief, and guilt. The positive emotions are hidden behind those, as if Gabriel is trying to smother them.

Joy, comfort, a dash of attraction, pleasure, laughter, sexual energy. Annoyance, too, but a general feeling of _cute_ where Dean is concerned – and Dean blushes as he discovers this one -- need, frustration, softness.

So many, many feelings, all coming together to form a giant, overwhelming bubble of _love_.

But it’s real. It’s real, and it’s big, and it’s there, surrounding Dean. It’s too much.

It brings a logic to everything that Gabriel did, though. The stupid decisions he made, because the feeling was too new, and Gabriel, as an angel, was motivated by a selfish need to pursue the rush of endorphins. The desperate actions he made, when he realized how much he fucked up. The anger that pushed him to use Dean, to make him pay for all the pain that unrequited love left behind.

It’s not an excuse, not by any stretch of the imagination. It doesn’t run through Dean like a revelation that immediately has him forgiving Gabriel as if nothing happened. It simply explains a lot.

Gabriel loves him. He loves Dean, and it’s real.

Dean exhales. “I don’t know what to say.”

NO NEED TO SAY ANYTH ING JUST NEEDED YOU TO K N O W

But Dean can’t just ignore it. He can’t go on as if nothing happened. As if he doesn’t know. As if it’s not slapping him in the face right at this moment.

IT’S TIME

“Wait! Wait! Wait,” Dean panics.

He needs to give something back. All of a sudden, he just needs to.

Faced with reality again, he thinks maybe Gabriel’s onto something with his ‘last honest speech’ thing.

Dean’s a hunter, who deals with angels, so he’s used to being in danger, always riding close to death. He just never had to make that kind of speech before. Sammy knows he loves him, of course. No need to burden him with all this touchy-feely crap.

But Gabriel’s different. So Dean needs to say something, show something. Just in case.

“Wait, please,” he repeats, before focusing again.

The vastness is disappearing, slowly. But he thinks he has time for one little peek inside his heart. He materializes his own little could of dust and colors, and waits, anxiously, for Gabriel to feel it.

To feel the ambiguity that clouds every single one of his emotions regarding Gabe. The longing, the reassurance of having him closer, relief that he’s on his side again. Jealousy, and frustration, anger, and sometimes a bitter, subdued sort of hate. The need to touch, overwhelming, but forbidden, hidden far inside.

Despite all of this, despite the trauma, there’s a nostalgia, rooted deep. A comfort, a domesticity, and a crazy, joyful attraction that Dean might be inclined to explore again. Maybe. One day.

The sum of all of this? Dean thinks it’s love. The broken kind. Or maybe just appreciation, as it is.

“So there,” he whispers.

He’s not in control anymore. It feels like fainting, but slower. The colors and the vastness are completely white around him. He wonders if he’ll sleep the whole time Gabriel will be in him, or if he’ll be able to see. Either way, he doesn’t care.

He just hopes there’ll be an after.

Faintly, there’s one last thing coming from Gabriel. Not really a sentence. Something that feels like a ‘thank you’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: Dean remembers his past abuse at the hand of Lucifer, which includes rape. You can skip the part with Meg in it if you want to avoid it.


	14. Take on Me

# CHAPTER 14: Take On Me

 

Sam wants to run.

He doesn’t, obviously, careful not to make any sound, his gun at the ready. It’s pointing toward the ground, but his muscles are wound tight, ready to fly up if something jumps at him.

What he first thought was a simple flight of stairs keeps going down, and down, in a spiral carved directly into the earth. The walls are black, something that looks strikingly like pus oozing from it, giving it a sickly glaze.

Resisting the weird, primal urge to touch it to see if it feels as disgusting as it looks, he keeps climbing down carefully. He really, really hopes he won’t find Dean down there. He’s not a hundred percent on board with the alternative, which would be Gabriel finding his brother first, but he’s pretty sure what he’ll find down there will be horrible. He just can’t imagine Dean being pushed down these stairs and into this hell hole.

But he can’t be thinking about that right now.

He can almost hear his brother’s voice telling him to _focus, Sammy!_ And he straightens up, pushes forward.

When are these stairs going to end?

He trips, his foot trying to go down when there’s no step left. _Huh_. It’s ending right here, apparently.

The corridor in front of him is very dark, very narrow, and it seems to go on endlessly. He has to strain his eyes just to see in front of him.

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that just tells him he’s going to find something. Something horrible. He just hopes it won’t be Dean.

“Please, don’t be here,” he whispers.

For a split second, his legs refuse to move, paralyzed by his instincts screaming at him that this is not good.

But he pushes through it. He has to. One foot forward, and then the other, it’s the way to go. He moves, slowly, gun raised in front of him, all caution for safety forgotten.

There are heavy iron doors lining each wall, running along the seemingly endless corridor. Cell doors, looks like.

“Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath.

He can’t hear anything. Maybe they’re empty. _God!_ He hopes they’re empty.

He stands in front of the one on the right, and tries to open it. It’s locked, of course, and frustration makes his blood boil for a second, before the high jiggly sound coming from his belt reminds him that he found a bunch of keys from the demon he killed.

_Right._

He tries a few keys, in no particular order, until the door opens. There’s no time to be scared about what he’ll find behind it, so he just steps inside.

The stench is what hits him first. Then he sees the cadavers. Little less than a dozen of them, stacked in the small, pitch-dark cell. Instinctively, he covers his mouth as bile rises up his throat. His brain just stops for a moment, before it kicks into gears again.

He takes out a small flashlight from his jacket pocket, and starts going through the bodies.

He has a weird reaction when he doesn’t find Dean there. He’s relieved, yes, but he knows there are other cells to check out, and he wonders, if he doesn’t find his brother in this place, where and in what state will he find him?

Dean can’t be dead. He simply can’t be. Sam likes to think that if his brother had died, he would _know_.

He moves on, then, checks the first cell on the left. The same key that opened the other door opens this one, so at least he figures he won’t have to pick any locks.

He finds another stack of cadavers in this one. And in the next. And in the next. In all of them. Dean is not amongst the bodies. They’ve most likely been thrown in there either to die, or after they were already dead. Most of them still have their clothes on, their wallets, their IDs, and some personal belongings.

Disgusted, appalled and disheartened, Sam steps in front of the last door.

“Okay.”

It wouldn’t be any use keeping the suspense, waiting until he feels ready. He won’t ever feel ready. Besides, there’s no time to waste. The little girl is waiting for him upstairs, and Gabriel’s alone, too. Sam feels the weight of his responsibilities now more than ever.

He gets to work. Of course, he finds bodies in the last cell. He goes through them, almost automatically. Until he sees a familiar face – if he can still call it a face – and his heart stops for a second.

It’s not Dean, _thank God_ , but Sam recognizes the hair, and the purple-black leather jacket.

_Ruby_.

She’s been dead for a little while, judging by the decomposition of her body, probably a generous number of days.

“God,” he breathes out. “Shit.”

He can’t stop staring at her, confused, numb. He was angry at her, still is, but never, in the wildest ways he imagined finding her, would he have thought of this. He wouldn’t have wished this fate on anybody. Not even her.

Sam pushed the other bodies away from her, to get her completely out in the open, as carefully as he can. Steeling himself, he sends up a small prayer for courage before kneeling down next to Ruby’s body. As he starts digging into his pocket, it hits him how surreal this all is.

“Shit,” he repeats, louder. “Fuck.”

Ruby didn’t have much on her. A pen and a small notebook in her jacket, but the notebook is blank. A pack of cigarettes. A lighter. A receipt for gas, but no car keys.

And, hanging from her neck on an elegant silver chain, a USB key.

He takes it, ripping it off her neck, half because it might be important, half because he wants something to remember her.

It all feels so anticlimactic. He’s been so angry for so long, thinking that finding her would cure him from the restlessness that’s been plaguing him ever since he settled at Gabriel’s mansion. He wanted a fight. He wanted to yell, and spit all his resentment in her face. He had planned everything he would say. But now… well, now he found her. And she’s dead. And he’s still angry, without a way of letting out the steam.  

He almost wants to punch her lifeless body, and immediately feels guilty about it. There’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t even have time to stare at her and reflects on it.

He needs to move.

“Wherever you are,” he whispers, feeling like he has to say something, “I hope you’re resting in peace. You fucking bitch.”

_Moving on._

He rushes out of there, impatient to be out of this creepy place. Climbing up the stairs feels easier and faster than when he rushed down.

“Come on,” he tells the girl once he reaches the cage room again.

Shyly, she opens the cage, and climbs out. He’s glad she’s trusting him enough to come with him, now, because he’s on the verge of leaving everything and everyone here, and just go running around, shooting everyone until he finds Dean.

She seems antsy, anyway. He’s thinking, she’s probably glad he came back for her.

Looking around, he asks one last time, “Anybody else here?”

Who knows? Maybe he missed someone. But he gets no answer.

So he takes the little girl’s hand, and gets out. She struggles to follow, but won’t let him help. She looks determined, at least, and that’s all that matters.

He finds the path that Gabriel took, and follows it. It feels like forever until he reaches the very end of this particular corridor. He’s so fucking tired of this labyrinth-like warehouse. He’s almost suffocating from how much he wants to see a familiar face. He _needs_ it.

And he needs Dean. _Fuck_ , he needs his brother right now.

A bright, white-golden light seems to fill the room behind the door in front of him, and it prompts him into action. He kicks it open, keeping his body between what’s behind it and the girl.

The scene that greets him is surreal. There’s no other word for it.

Cas is kneeling next to Dean’s naked body, Gabriel just sitting up in front of them. There’s the body of a man lying down close to them, and for a second, Sam thinks they’ve won.

Until he notices the look of pure horror on Cas’s face as he stares at Gabriel.

“DEAN,” Sam bellows, the muscles in his thighs already contracting to propel him toward his brother.

Cas’s gaze snaps to him, a warning written all over his face.

Gabriel turns to him, too, but there’s something wrong about him. He licks his lips as his eyes roam over Sam’s body with a sick, salacious look. Sam takes a step back without even thinking about it. The little girl wraps herself around the back of his legs and doesn’t let go.

“My, my,” Gabriel says, and he stands up with a groan. “Who’s this?”

_Not Gabriel_ , Sam’s brain supplies, helpfully.

But he doesn’t get any time to dwell on the fact, because Dean is sitting up as well. Sam has to hold back a gasp. What looked like sigils painted on his body, he realizes are _carved in his skin_.

And they’re… healing?

“Stay here,” Sam whispers to the girl.

He moves too fast for her to keep holding on, but he hears her whimper very clearly. He can’t care about it.

“Dean!”

“Oh, no,” Gabriel laughs.

With a wave of his hand, he sends Sam flying.

He crashes on the floor, missing the little girl by only a few inches.

“Stop,” Dean says.

Oddly, his voice is much higher than it usually is. Sam shakes himself, and tries to get up despite the nausea and the pain in his back.

_What the Hell is happening?_

“Or what,” Gabriel asks Dean, eyeing him from head to toe. “Nothing you can do to me in that vessel, little Archangel.”

Sam does a double take. Gabriel is in Dean? Is that what’s happening? The incredible thing is that Dean would agree to it. But if Gabriel is in Dean, then who’s in Gabriel?

“You underestimate what power there is to gain from a willing vessel,” Dean – no, Gabriel-in-Dean – answers.

_God_. Sam won’t ever get used to it.

“I don’t know,” _Gabriel_ – Gabriel’s body – shrugs, “this vessel has so much of your Grace stacked in it! I’m gonna have so much fun!”

“You won’t get Dean,” _Dean_ says, “I’ll make sure of it.”

As they keep circling each other, Cas discreetly moves away from them, and closer to Sam.

“Don’t come too close,” he whispers, once he reaches him. “It might get dangerous.”

The little girl, who’s been crawling to Sam, grabs at him again, her grip surprisingly strong.

Cas frowns at her. “Who are you?”

“Girl,” she states, with the same expression on her face.

“That’s an unfortunate name,” Cas answers as he takes in her blood-caked hair, and her raggedy dress.

“Cas,” Sam interrupts. There’s no time for chit-chats. “What do you mean, ‘dangerous’? What’s happening?”

“Gabriel was dying,” Cas says, eyes fixed on Gabriel and Dean. “So Dean agreed to be his vessel to prevent Alastair from killing him.”

“ _This_ ,” Sam points at Gabriel, “is Alastair?”

Cas only nods.

“You’re destroying all my good work,” Alastair-in-Gabriel tells Gabriel-in-Dean, “You know, if you heal him, I’ll have to do it all over again. Dean won’t appreciate that.”

Gabriel-Dean huffs, “He says ‘go fuck yourself’.”

“Oh, I will,” Alastair laughs, a dirty, disgusting sound coming out of Gabriel’s mouth. “Once I get him back.”

Sam holds onto the little girl. She started to shake, and he can’t in good conscience ignore that. And he kinda needs something to hold on to, anyway. After finding Ruby, after the fight with the demon, and now this, he’s dizzy with the enormity of the situation.

He leans over to Cas, “Dean’s conscious?”

Cas nods. Never once does his gaze leave the scene in front of them.

“How’s Gabriel going to take on Alastair?”

“Not sure,” Cas says. “And I don’t think Gabriel is sure of what to do, either.”

It’s so crazy that Sam can’t even find it in himself to be mad. “Can he do it?”

Cas takes way too long to answer for Sam’s taste. He seems to think about it, considering every single possible outcome, until, finally, he sighs. “With Dean’s help, I think he can.”

“How?”

Cas shrugs again, “I have no idea. All I know is, sometimes, an angel can tap into a vessel’s soul, and power their Grace this way.” He finally looks back from Alastair and Gabriel to give Sam an apologetic look, “But the vessel has to put all his or her trust in the angel possessing them.” There’s something grave in his eyes, and Sam understands what he means before he says it, “The way Gabriel and Dean’s relationship has been developing… I don’t know if it’ll work.”

There’s nothing they can do, then. Beside sit there, at the ready, waiting for Gabriel, of all people, to save the day. But this time he has Dean with him. Sam can only hope it’ll make all the difference.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

It’s the last time Dean does something like this. It’s worse than everything. It’s better than everything, too, which could become a real problem.

Being possessed by an angel, what a bright idea!

If someone had told him, before all the shit with Gabriel and being a slave went down, that he was going to end up as meat-suit for an Archangel, he would’ve laughed in their face. It’s not like he had a choice, though. It was either that, or Gabriel died.

And they can’t let Alastair win.

Dean’s not feeling any pain, anymore, that’s the good thing. Even the constant ache in his lower back, from digging graves since he was old enough to hold a shovel, has disappeared.

_I ‘turned off’ the pain receptors in your brain while I heal your wounds,_ Gabriel explains.

That’s rather nice of Gabriel. And, hey, Dean could get used to it. He hasn’t felt this good in years!

_Hunger and the need to pee are types of pain_ , Gabriel seems to shrug in his mind. _You need that_.

Whatever.

He can’t deny that being able to see through his own eyes without any control over his limbs is more than weird. And annoying.

Alright, he’s scared as Hell. It’s like being paralyzed, and held on strings, and paraded like a puppet. And seeing Alastair use Gabriel’s body like that? All kinds of fucked up. He just hopes Cas will convince Sammy to stay back and let Gabriel work his magic.

_Focus!_

“Are you having an argument in there,” Alastair asks, head tilting on the side. “You kind of went cross-eyed there for a moment. Not a good look on Dean’s face.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer, but Dean can feel his anger boiling inside. Dean admires his patience. If it was him, he would’ve attempted to punch the demon in the face a while ago.

“I’m guessing Dean’s enjoying himself,” Alastair taunts. “I’m sure he loves having you inside him.”

Gabriel scoffs. “Is that all you’ve got? You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

There’s a rage building, and building under his skin. It’s as if his Grace is getting hotter by the second, but Dean’s rather proud of him, because so far he’s holding it together pretty well.

Alastair laughs, “I’ll give you point for trying, but truly,” he takes a long, dramatic breath, “one-liners aren’t your thing.”

It’s all good and proper, and Dean’s petrified, figuratively speaking, by fear, but really, it’s kind of time to put a little action into this whole mess. Like, for real. Enough talking.

_I’m trying to find an angle of attack._

Which, again, Dean gets. But if they don’t do something now, it’ll give Alastair time to come up with something. And does Gabriel even knows what he’s gonna do?

_Shut up!_

“Where are your henchmen,” Gabriel asks Alastair.

From Dean’s point of view, it sounds very antsy. It probably does from the outside, too.

As if on cue, Alastair twists the mouth of Gabriel’s vessel in a smug, knowing smile that feels oh-so-wrong. “I don’t need them. You’re shitting yourself. It’s written all over your face.”

Gabriel has the guts to be offended.

Before Gabriel can answer Alastair, Dean insists that they need to act, now. They need a plan of action, even if it’s just ‘blast Alastair’s face with a ball of Grace’.

_I can’t risk it._

**Why not? It’s a great idea!**

_I still have after-effects from the fight with Lucifer_ , Gabriel tells him, regretfully. _I’m not sure how strong Alastair is. I don’t know if it’ll work._

He starts to move with Dean’s body. Not very subtle, and it’s very clear that he’s trying to protect Cas and Sam. And a little girl? Which, obviously, was going to attract Alastair’s attention to them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your little friends later,” the demon says.

**Do it!**

_It’s too dangerous! What if it doesn’t work?_

**Then we’ll find something else! Come on!**

“Because you’re going to kill me,” Gabriel says, hoping to distract Alastair for a little while longer.

Alastair lifts his arms in a full-body shrug, an expression on his face that kind of says ‘what can you do about it?’ “You know I will.”

**Grace him!**

_We have to think about the consequences, Dean!_

**Fuck the consequences! The guy carved a spell into my skin! Nuke him!**

“You can’t fly off,” Alastair goes on. “With the spell I worked into the building, you can’t go anywhere.” He smiles, takes a step forward. “You can thank your brother for that. Poor old Luci was so eager to spill all your secrets!”

_Dean, I can’t._

**Look, I know you’re scared, but if you don’t do something—**

_If I do there’s a good chance you’ll die!_

Dean startles, as much as a soul can startle, under the force of Gabriel’s conviction.

**Explain.**

“You know,” Alastair pouts, “this whole silent treatment thing is getting old.”

The demon sighs, and, suddenly, Dean’s body is projected against the nearest wall. Unfortunately, Gabriel is focusing on Alastair, and Dean can’t see what’s happening to Sam and Cas. The little girl screams, though, which gives Dean a good idea.

“I thought we were gonna have some fun,” Alastair tells Gabriel. “But you, my friend, are actually very boring.”

“I’m not your friend,” Gabriel spits.

**What did you mean?**

_I can use your soul to power my Grace, but if I’m not careful, and if you fight it, I could drain you._

“No,” Alastair coos. He steps forward. A bit too close for Dean’s comfort, and for Gabriel’s, too. “But we’re going to get very close with what I have planned for you.”

**Like my soul is a battery, huh?**

_It’s too dangerous._

**Do it. I consent. Use my soul.**

Gabriel seems to be pushing, fighting against Alastair’s power, and so he dismisses Dean with a thought. It feels like an annoyed eye-roll.

“You can talk all you want,” Gabriel says. “But I won’t let you get Dean. Or any other human. It’s over.”

Alastair lets out a deep, full laugh. “You think you can stop me? Oh, Gabriel… I have hundreds of demons working for me. You can’t stop it.”

“We saw everything,” Gabriel counters. “The council—”

“Doesn’t care about us,” Alastair exclaims. “We’re all over the world! We’ve been here for years. Why do you think they didn’t stop Lucifer before? He’s been sketchy for decades!”

**Do it, dammit! You’re stuck! Do it!**

_No!_

**Do it, you coward!**

_Insulting me won’t work. Not this time._

“You’re just an arrogant, demonic little piece of shit,” Gabriel says under his breath. He’s so pissed off, both by what Alastair is implying and by Dean, that the rage propels him. He detaches from the wall, steps on the hard concrete floor. “Whatever you do, there’ll always be someone to stop you.”

**Gabriel, I’m not kidding. I trust you. Do it.**

“And today, that someone is me,” Gabriel finishes.

He slaps his right hand on Alastair’s forehead, the other holding on to his shoulder, and lets his Grace flow. Dean’s too struck by how fast things go to be bothered by how cheesy Gabriel sounded just a second ago.

Alastair’s head jerks back, and Dean’s pretty sure the vertebrae in his neck just snapped. The shock makes him take one, two steps back.

When he manages to look back at Gabriel – he has to use his hands and pull until his head comes back to a somewhat regular position with a sickening ‘crack’ – the fury in his eyes is unlike anything Dean’s ever seen. This defines the exact moment Dean stops seeing a demon in Gabriel’s body, and really sees Alastair bleed through instead.

It’s more of a hemorrhage rather than a simple bleeding.

**Uh-oh** , Dean thinks at Gabriel when Alastair charges their way.

Gabriel is already taking a fighting stance, a foot back to brace himself on, firsts rising in front of him.

Alastair, as he stomps to them like an enraged bull, raises a hand, blasting a shockwave of demonic mojo. Gabriel is ready this time. He holds back and sends another flash of Grace.

It doesn’t work.

There’s a millisecond where Alastair hesitates, and he and Gabriel stare at each other as they realize they’re equals in terms of power, and if they keep at it this way, they’ll probably still be shooting at each other in a week.

Dean doesn’t know where the sudden burst of need comes from. One second he’s watching this whole mess happen, paralyzed, the next he’s in control of his own body again. Maybe from thinking about it too hard. Maybe from how pissed at Alastair he feels. His fist flies, and crash-lands on Alastair’s cheek. He almost sees it happen in slow-motion, his fist plunging into the soft skin of the face of Gabriel’s vessel, and his eyes, Alastair’s eyes, opening up comically under the surprise of the blow.

Gabriel is shocked, too, and he takes the reins again, bewildered.

_How did you do that?_

Dean has no fucking clue. **I just really wanted to punch him in the face!**

“YOU DARE,” Alastair roars, before throwing back another punch.

It’s so violent that before he knows what’s happening, Gabriel is on the floor, with blood gathering in his mouth. Dean feels it, almost like he would in a dream. It doesn’t hurt, but he feels it, the echo of it rippling in his jaw, making his ears ring. Their ears ring.

Gabriel spits the blood, pushing up, “What’s wrong, Chucklehead? You don’t know how to use your fists?”

**Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?**

_I need to piss him off. People make mistakes when they’re angry!_

**Dude. _Chucklehead?_ Come on, let me talk! **

“Whatever the means, I’ll be happy to destroy you,” Alastair rages, coldly. “Doing it with my fists will only double the pleasure!”

**I take it back, you both suck.**

_Dean, this is serious!_

**Yeah, well, I’m stuck in my own body and you won’t let me help!**

He’s getting angry, too. He’s literally sitting back inside his own skull, having to watch this asshole who tortured him get beaten up by someone else. He wants to do _something_ , dammit!

Gabriel doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks Alastair straight in the eyes, and spit a bit of blood at his feet.

Rage is all over Alastair’s features, and he charges again, fist flying toward them. Gabriel parries with a forearm, tries to punch back. Alastair dodges. This isn’t going anywhere.

**You said you didn’t know how to make it up to me** , Dean tells Gabriel, trying to push his desperation at him. **Well, here’s your chance. Do your soul thing. Come on!**

He feels Gabriel waver in his resolve. The angel doesn’t show it, though. He’s still focusing on Alastair, mostly trying to land a hit.

**I trust you. Come on!**

“You think you can defeat me like this,” Alastair sneers.  “You can’t even touch me!”

Gabriel’s answer is to pull out his angel blade. Alastair stops, eyes sliding over it, and with a sick smile, he scoffs.

“Now we’re talking.”

He reaches inside his jacket, and pulls out a long, worn out knife with a gleeful smirk.

**Gabriel!**

But something’s pushing at Dean, his metaphorical eyelids are getting heavy.

**Don’t you dare, Gabe! Don’t you dare put me to sleep, you asshole!**

_It’s for your own safety, Dean. I’m sorry._

And he moves. With one swift push of thighs, he’s on Alastair, blade glinting in the dim lights of the warehouse.

He misses.

**No! You took Lucifer away from me! I should’ve been there after everything he did to me! Don’t rob me of Alastair, too! Don’t you fucking dare!**

Dean’s slipping, he knows it. It can’t be happening.

**If you do this, I’ll never forgive you!**

Alastair is attacking, now. His knife slashes, and slashes, relentless, until the tip of it touches Gabriel’s cheek. Blood and Grace leak through the small gash, and Gabriel has no choice but to step back.

**You hear me? If you push me away there’ll be no going back! Just use my soul, you coward! He’s stronger than you!**

The pressure to go to sleep slowly disappears. Dean’s never been as relieved as he is now. There’s no time to dwell on it, though, because Gabriel is going at it again, his strikes lacking the precision needed to land a hit. He’s starting to get frustrated, and angry, which means he’s getting sloppy, too.

They won’t make it.

Alastair sees it, of course. He dodges and parries, and smiles all the while, as if he’s already won. That smile doesn’t suit the face Dean’s come to know as Gabriel’s.

_Jesus Christ_. He hopes they’ll make it. But they won’t achieve anything by waving a knife around. Gabe won’t achieve anything.

Dean can do nothing but watch as the angel drives them into a wall.

**Gabriel, I’m begging you. Use my soul** , he pleads, hoping that Gabriel will answer something, anything. This silent treatment is scaring the shit out of him. **Please. You suggested it. Means you were seriously thinking about it, right?**

Alastair starts laughing. A crazy kind of laugh, that echoes inside the room, and would surely have given Dean goose bumps if he were still in control of his body.

Gabriel narrows his eyes, and tries to hit again. Something’s different this time. He’s more focused on Alastair than he is on the fight, observing his movements. The demon is still laughing as he avoids every single one of Gabriel’s attempt. He gives back as good as he gets, and Gabriel’s attention zeroes in on his hand, the one holding the knife.

**What is it?**

Gabriel spits a bit of blood that gathered in his mouth, strikes a blow aiming for Alastair’s heart, misses. Alastair strikes back, his blade missing Gabriel’s left arm by half an inch.

_He’s trying not to hurt you. Not in any way that would be fatal, anyway._

Oh.

**Why didn’t I notice that?**

Hunter, my ass. He’s so out of practice he misses the obvious.

_Your brain is sustaining two entities. You don’t have all your capacities because I’m using half of them._

Dean wishes he could scoff. It makes a sort of sense, but he knows it’s not just that. He’ll have to trust Gabe on this one.

Anyway, if this is the case, if Alastair is avoiding giving mortal wounds, at the rate they’re going, they could go on forever and nobody would win.

From the corner of their eyes, Dean can see Sammy move. He’s going to try something.

They’re stuck, and now they’re going to get Sam and Cas killed.

**You know what we have to do. There’s no choice now!**

“Don’t,” Gabriel spits, gaze focusing on Sam, who freezes at the word.

Sam is already a few feet away from Cas and the little girl, and on his way to do something very stupid to Alastair and get himself killed in the process.

Alastair turns his head, too, giving Sam a once-over. “Hate to agree with an angel, there, but nobody wants you here, kiddo.”

And with a nonchalant wave of his hand, he sends Sam flying again.

Sam crashes on the floor at Cas’s feet, and Dean can do nothing beside hope he’s okay.

Gabriel’s already focusing on Alastair again.

**He’s gonna kill you. And Cas, and Sam. Please, Gabe, I don’t want to end up as a meatsuit for this asshole.**

Alastair is gauging Gabriel, now. It’s like time is suspended for a moment.

_And you’re ready to risk your life on this?_

Dean projects annoyance and fondness.

**I’m a hunter, Gabe. If I’m not risking my life, it’s not worth my time.**

Dean feels it very clearly, the moment Gabriel makes a decision. There’s like a shift inside him, like he’s been tense without noticing it, and all his muscles unlocked at once.

_It’s going to hurt._

**I’m fine with that.**

There’s something like a sigh spreading through Dean, tickling him all over.

_If you… if it’s the last time we talk, I just want to say—_

**Get on with it!**

_Thank you, Dean. For everything._

Alastair is smirking again, and his stance shifts. He’s getting ready to attack again.

Gabriel waits. He’s waiting for an answer.

**Yeah** , Dean says at last. **I appreciate that. Now do your thing. God speed, or whatever.**

Gabriel sends a small wave of warmth his way, a mix of gratitude, and love, and a little bit of apprehension. Dean only wishes he could look at Sam one last time, and Gabriel obliges.

He’s okay, Dean sees with relief, a bit shaken, maybe, still on his ass on the floor, but okay.

Sam’s eyes lock on them, and there’s probably something showing on their face, because Sam starts shaking his head, eyes going wide with fear.

Finally, Gabriel looks toward Alastair again. The demon moves. Gabriel moves as well. Dean braces himself.

It’s all he can do. That, and watch, as Alastair raises his knife again. Gabriel was right. Alastair is aiming for Dean’s upper arm, just shy of his heart. Gabriel is focused on the blade. When they’re about to meet, he pivots slightly to the left, and, with his left hand, grabs Alastair’s arm and directs the knife toward his heart. Toward Dean’s heart.

The knife plunges violently into the flesh, breaking a rib in the process with a sickening crack.

Alastair’s eyes widen in surprise, and, for the first time, in fear. “NO!”

Dean doesn’t feel the pain. He concentrates on Gabriel, and he keeps watching, as Gabe lets go of his angel blade, taking advantage of Alastair’s surprise to smack his hand against the demon’s forehead.

That’s when the pain starts, blooming inside Dean. Taking root in the pit of his stomach like an angry ball of fire, it spreads all over his limbs, turning his blood into lava, burning his entire being until it comes to explode in his head.

He thinks he’s screaming. At least, Gabriel is screaming for them both, a roar of righteous rage coming out of their shared mouth as the pain in Dean drains his soul to turn it into Grace.

It lunges into Alastair, bathing him in golden light.

The pain, agonizing, now, doubles. Dean can’t think anymore, but he can’t do anything else either. He can’t close his eyes, can’t cry, can’t fold his body onto itself, just to try and make it better, at least for a while. Gabriel is still in control.

Sam is screaming, too. Cas is holding on to him, so he won’t run to Dean.

Alastair’s head snaps back, Gabriel’s hand still stuck to it, Grace pouring out of it so hard and fast that Dean can feel sweat beading on their forehead. He can feel the searing pain of his soul being drained out, the pain of the knife still stuck in his chest.

Pain all over. It’s all he knows. That, and what Gabriel sees through his eyes. The smoke flying out of Gabriel’s vessel, out of the mouth, trying to escape. Gabriel won’t let it. With his other hand, he pushes it back in, pushes more Grace at it. His only intention is to hurt. To kill. He doesn’t care about anything else, anymore.

Dean just wants it to end.

And it does, in a blast of white, blinding light.

He doesn’t know where he is for a long while. The pain is too hot, so hot it almost feels cold, almost too much for his nerve endings to react anymore. When he comes to, blinking the white light away, he’s still standing, still in the warehouse. Still alive. Sam is still sitting on the floor, still looking at the scene with the same fear in his eyes. Cas is still at his side. The little girl is still hunched behind them.

The only difference is Alastair, or rather, Gabriel’s empty vessel – it has to be empty, he looks so lifeless – lying on the floor, his eyes closed.

And the pain. It’s there, but compared to what it had been earlier, it’s almost unnoticeable. It pulses in Dean’s chest, almost gently.

Dizzy, Dean’s body tilts on his axis. Only his reflexes make him take a step backward, and then forward, to find his balance again. It’s how he realizes Gabriel is not in him anymore.

There’s the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, but a groan at his feet makes him forget about it.

Gabriel’s body is sitting up, and for a heart-stopping moment, Dean thinks Alastair is going to jump at him again. But as soon as the body looks up at him, worry etched into its features – His! His features! – Dean knows they’ve won.

“Dean,” Gabriel lets out. Somehow, it sounds urgent.

Dean wants to answer. To say something. But when he opens his mouth, a smile already forming on his lips, only a strangled cough comes out. And blood. So much blood.

Dean looks down on himself, at his naked body, at the blood dripping from his chin to his chest. He sees the knife still plunged in his heart, and his head starts spinning with the enormity of it.

“Oh,” he breathes, before his legs give out.

He doesn’t hit the floor. Gabe is there to hold him before he can even blink. Sam is screaming his name, but he barely registers the noise.

Another blink, and Dean is surrounded.

“No, no, no, no,” Sam is blabbering, eyes wet with the tears he’s trying to hold back.

Cas is there, too. They’re all looking at him. _Fuck_. He’s dying, isn’t he?

“’S okay,” he manages to say. Each breath feels like getting stabbed all over again. “’S okay, Sammy. W-we killed the bastard.”

“Don’t speak,” Castiel says, very seriously. Like they can still save him. Like he’s not bleeding to death. “Save your breath.”

Dean lets out a pained laugh. He can’t speak, anyway, unless he makes an inhuman effort. But Sammy needs something from him. He needs to know everything’s fine.

“What did you do,” Sam asks, angrily, and Dean sees he’s talking to Gabriel.

_He stabbed me in the chest_ , Dean thinks, blankly. Then it hits him. “’e stabb’d me,” he huffs in an incredulous laugh. “In the fuckin’ chest!”

Sam turns a furious eye on Gabriel. “Why the fuck would you do something like that?!”

The angel doesn’t answer. He’s focused on Dean, and Dean can’t look away from his eyes, either.

“He couldn’t reach Alastair,” Castiel says. “If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to take the blow.”

Far from being reassured, Sam, full of righteous fury, grabs Gabriel’s arm, “It wasn’t worth it!” He tries to shake the angel, but Gabriel won’t let his body be moved.

“Sammy,” Dean breathes. _God_! He’s so tired. He’s falling backward, and he doesn’t even have the strength to stop his fall.

But Gabriel is there. Right behind him. Holding him.

“We’ll fix you right up,” Sam blurts, eyes boring into him. His anger is gone, replaced by anxiety.  “Gabriel will fix you. It’s okay.”

Yeah. As if it would be that easy. Dean can feel how tense Gabriel is behind him. The angel knows, and Cas knows, too, if the way he’s staring sadly at the floor is any indication, that Gabriel used up almost all his juice.

Sam’s lower lip trembles with the need to cry. He shakes his head, lost between anger and fear. “Gabriel will fix you,” he insists.

When Gabriel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a move to even try something, Sam looks up at him, insistently, “You’re going to fix him!”

“I’m not sure I can,” Gabriel says, very quietly.

“I don’ min’,” Dean slurs. It’s getting difficult to keep his eyes open. He’s slipping, but he feels very calm about the whole thing. “We did goo—good. ‘kay, Sammy? ‘S okay.”

“No! It’s not,” Sam explodes in a sob. “You’re gonna make it, a’ight? Y-you’ll be f-fine!”

It’s cute, really. And it hurts to see Sam suffer this way, to see him cry. Dean wants to reassure him, to tell him he’s not scared, and it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. That Sam is going to be fine, really, because he has Jess, and they’ll have plenty of babies or whatever. They can even name one after Dean, why the fuck not?

But he doesn’t have the strength.

“I don’t know if I can do much,” Gabriel repeats, with more confidence than before. “But I’m going to try. Of course I’m going to try.”

“Gabriel,” Cas sharply says, “you can’t!”

Sam almost barks at him, “Why not?!”

“He could drain his Grace,” Cas answers in the same tone, “lose it all entirely!”

“He wouldn’t die from it!”

“No, but he would be human!”

“And?”

“Guys…” Dean breathes.

He can’t see shit anymore. Or did he close his eyes?

“I’ll try,” Gabriel whispers, bending over Dean. Talking just to him. “You didn’t think I would stab you and be done with you, did you?”

“Y’don’ hafta.”

“I want to. You’re the only one who can kick my ass, right?”

Dean sighs. “’kay. Whatever. ‘m already gone.”

“Don’t say that,” Sam presses, rubbing his legs shyly, like he’s scared that if he touches Dean higher, he’ll hurt him. Or maybe it’s because Dean’s naked. He keeps forgetting about that.

“I need to remove the knife, first,” Gabriel goes on. “It’s going to hurt.”

“No kiddin’,” Dean huffs. “Suit yo’self.”

Sam squeezes his legs harder. Looking up at Gabriel towering over him with a focus so intense it’s almost like he’s looking through him, Dean smiles, “You gonna… countdown or—”

The blade slides from his chest before he can end his sentence, and the pain is so fierce that for a second, he’s pretty sure he passed out.

The echo of a scream is still ringing in his ears when he manages to open his eyes again. It won’t last long, seems like. His vision is blurry, and it’s like there’s something in his ears, that won’t let the sounds reach his brain.

“You… y’coul’ warn a guy… be… b’fore…”

_Shit_. He doesn’t give a shit. He’s too tired, anyway. So he gives up on his joke, and on reassuring anyone. He just rests his head on Gabriel’s thighs, and lets his mind slip away.

Last thing he sees is Gabriel’s hand on his wound, and a bright, golden light taking over him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Light. Bright, blinding. _God!_ Won’t it ever end? The pain hasn’t even disappeared, yet. Even in death, he can’t get a break. Typical, really.

The light seems to be moving, hovering over his eyes. He frowns, tries to move, but is stopped by a pain so fierce it takes his breath away. It brings tears to his eyes, that he has to blink away.

Light. Bright, blinding.

Dean frowns again. He doesn’t dare move more than his head. What’s blinding him, the light, is the sun shining through the windows of the car he’s lying in. It’s hot in there, almost suffocating.

But if he can see the sun, if he’s in a car, then he’s alive.

Hastily, he looks down at his chest. Well, at least he’s wearing pants, and a t-shirt. When he reaches under it, poking at where the stab wound should be, he can’t find it. There’s nothing there. Maybe a little scar, but there’s no wound left.

_He’s alive!_

He’s hurting, though. He tries to move, very carefully, and the pain shoots through his left side, doubling when he hisses.

Broken rib, then. There’s no way in Hell he’ll manage to sit up without hurting himself even more. And anyway, the telltale dizziness of blood loss is there, insistent. He’s not going to throw up, but it’s a close call.

And, God! He’s parched! He can’t really hear anything, so it’s most likely that the others left him alone to do God knows what, thinking he wouldn’t wake up for a while.

In truth, he’s hurting, and he’s thirsty, and he just needs to see someone. Anyone. He can’t be alone right now. He needs to make sure they’ve won, that Alastair is dead, that they won’t be going back to the hotel. He needs to be _home_.

To top it all off, the first hint of a headache starts pulsing behind one of his eyes. He groans. No choice, then. He has to get out of that car.

Dammit!

First, he has to brace himself, get ready for the pain. Only then can he start to think about what to do. Hardest thing is going to be sitting up. He’s gonna have to roll onto his belly, try not to fall between the back and front seats, and push himself up.

It’s gonna hurt, all right.

“Fuck me,” he breathes.

And he gets to work. Yes, it fucking hurts, every breath more laborious than the previous one, every movement sending sharp pangs of pain zigzagging through his left side. Nothing he can do about it. So he grits his teeth, and tries to roll.

“Come ooon,” he groans. “Son of a—”

Finally, he manages to shift on his right side. For some long seconds, he has to stop, and just breathe, eyes closed. It feels like he broke another rib, just like he thought it would. It’s probably not the case, but it hurts all the same, and Dean curses under his breath until the pain becomes bearable.

_Fucking Hell_! When is he gonna get a break?

“Alright,” Dean mumbles under his breath. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Sitting up after that is easy. He just has to drop his feet on the floor, and push on his right hand, and finally, he’s vertical.

He has to take another break before he exits the car. The landscape around the car is mostly flat land and sand. He has absolutely no idea where he is, or where the others are.

Getting out of the car and on his feet in the stifling heat of the end of summer is a whole other ordeal in itself. As soon as he’s up, the dizziness hits him full force. For a second, he thinks he’s going to fall and won’t be able to walk ever again. Only thing he can do is hold on to the car and will the nausea away.

It takes a while, but he grits his teeth through it, and eventually feels okay enough that he can step back from the – frankly awful – car, and take a good long look at his surroundings.

He’s in the desert, that much he knows, so it shouldn’t be difficult to see where the others have gone.

The air seems to be shimmering with heat. And maybe that, and the blood loss, can explain why at first he didn’t see the column of smoke rising up to the sky on the east side of the plains.

With a faint sense of relief – _he’s not alone!_ – he starts walking toward it. He still has to be careful, because he never knows what’s waiting for him over there, but he’s honestly had enough excitement and terror for one day, and he can’t really find it in himself to be scared.

Lucky for him, what greets him when he can finally see what’s happening is a familiar sight. Familiar people, gathered around a pyre. Only strange thing is, there’s twice as many people as there was in the warehouse.

They all look weird there, standing solemnly in the sun in front of a giant fire. There’s Sam, of course, the little girl still clinging to his legs, and Cas and Gabriel. But Dean also recognizes Bobby, Charlie and Victor, and, standing aside from the group, is Meg.

Everyone’s there, and they’re all okay. Dean breathes a sigh of relief. True relief this time.

The sound of rocks and sand rolling under his shoes as he walks alerts the others to his presence. Sam turns around first, and several complicated things that Dean is too tired to read happen on his face all at once. In three giant strides he’s on Dean, trying to hug him to death, or so it seems.

“Ow! Ow,” Dean huffs, wincing. “Sam. Busted rib! Busted rib!”

“Shit,” Sam fumbles back, “Shit! Sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies. His hand finds Sam’s shoulder almost reflexively. “I’m peachy, Sammy.”

He needs to touch, to make sure. _Fuck!_ He’s alive! How did that happen?

Sam gives him a shaky laugh, and shifts from one foot to the other. He wants to touch, too, but he’s scared he’ll break something.

“Dean,” Castiel states, looking at him like he can see his insides just by squinting, “How are you feeling?”

“You scared the crap out of us,” Meg nods, coming closer.

They’re all staring, all worried, which, as always, makes him uncomfortable, but he tries not to show it. He sticks a cocky smile on his lips, and shrugs. Or tries to, “I’m… feeling fine, for a guy who’s been stabbed in the heart” he answers, trying for humor. “Rib still hurts, but I’m okay.”

He searches for Gabriel, who stayed close to the pyre, his back to them.

“Yes,” Cas says, looking in his direction, then back to Dean. “We… could only take care of the stab wound. For now.”

“It’s more than enough,” Dean smiles. “Really.”

He tries to put as much gratitude as he can in the tone of his voice, so that Gabriel will hear. Not like Dean owes him anything, but still.

An awkward silence falls on all of them, so Dean nods toward the fire. “Who… who are we…?” He trails off.

Nobody seems to be missing from their little group, but maybe they brought someone else along that he didn’t get to see, and he’s scared to know what happened while he was away.

He’s already puzzled enough with Sam’s presence. If someone died to save him, he’s not sure he could stand it.

“Jason,” Gabriel answers. He still doesn’t look at any of them.

Yes, Jason. Guilt rise up in Dean like bile. He forgot all about him. There’s a heaviness in the air, something that stops them all from talking, from moving, even. It must mean Gabe’s been like this for a while, and it’s clear none of the others wants to do anything about it.

So it’s gonna fall on Dean, of course. Like he’s his fucking boyfriend or something.

It’s confirmed when he steps toward Gabriel, and nobody follows. Dean only gives them a ‘thanks-a-lot-guys’ kinda look, and joins the archangel.

He doesn’t really know what to say. After everything, after that weird moment out of time they spent in Dean’s head, he still has this weird sentiment of being connected to Gabriel, that at any moment, he’ll feel something coming from him and will be able to answer in kind. He wonders, for a brief second, if he projects reassurance, will Gabriel feel it?

But using actual words seems like the more reasonable thing to do. He settles on a small, “Are you okay?” And he hates how unsure he sounds.

“No,” Gabriel answers without feeling, eyes still fixed on the fire. “Not at all.”

What do you answer to that? Dean can’t think of anything. He’s dizzy, and tired, and thirsty. Everything smells like smoke, and meat – he hates that about burning corpses – and it’s hot as balls. His brain is giving up on him for the day.

So he doesn’t say anything. He waits.

“I killed him,” Gabriel quietly says after what feels like a long while, just so only Dean will hear. “I used him, and I killed him.”

“Alastair killed him,” Dean says. He’s at a loss as to what to do, so he hides his hands into his pants pockets, “Even if you hadn’t met him, he would’ve still been kidnapped and used by the demons.”

Gabriel shakes his head, angrily, “That’s not the point!”

Dean turns slightly toward him. “Okay. Then what is?”

Without answering, Gabriel shakes his head again.

“Because the way I see it,” Dean goes on, “Alastair’s dead. He did something to you which means you can bring proof to your Council. And, okay, maybe they won’t be convinced that Lucifer giving him all those spells was worth his death,” he concedes, “but I’d call that a pretty big win.”

“I know what you’re doing, Dean, and it’s very nice of you,” Gabriel answers, seething, “but it’s not—not the point, and it’s not helping at all. Please… don’t.”

_Alright_. Gabriel doesn’t want to talk, or maybe he just wants Dean to listen. In any case, Dean doesn’t really know how to make it better, so he just sighs.

“Okay,” he shrugs. “But you’re aware everyone’s walking on eggshells around you and I’m pretty sure they’re all counting on me to make it better.”

He stares at Gabriel, because staring at Jason’s corpse, burning like this in broad daylight, is a bit too much for him. It’s not because Dean resented the guy that he’s glad he’s dead. Jason probably had a family, a life. In a way, he was kinda like Dean. A free man who go tangled up in this shit show, and did what he could to survive this whole slavery bullshit.

Gabriel opens his mouth, and closes it a few times, before he lets out in a rush of air, “I don’t have—” Then he stops himself, eyebrows furrowing in anguish.

_God. He isn’t going to cry, is he?_

“I don’t know what I’m here for,” Gabriel finally whispers. “I thought I knew, but I was so misguided… I hurt so many people. It’d probably be for the best if I went back to Heaven, and accepted the consequences of my actions.” He nods, like he’s pleased with what he just said. “It’d be better for everyone.”

Here comes the anger again. Dean understands, somewhat passively, that Gabriel will never cease to piss him off. It’s kind of part of their relationship, now.

“Well, it’s never too late to have a mid-life crisis, apparently,” Dean huffs, rolling his eyes.

Gabriel’s lips twist in a quick grimace. He thinks Dean’s mocking him.

To be fair, Dean kinda is.

“Listen,” he licks his lips, turns completely toward Gabriel. “You don’t mean that. You’re just grieving, and tired, because this whole thing’s been really tough on you. Look at me!”

Gabriel’s reluctant, but Dean holds his ground. Finally, Gabriel’s eyes find his.

“It sure has been a long day,” Dean insists. “And yeah, you fuck up, a lot, and you’re pretty consistent about it. But you’re not gonna do anything today that you might regret tomorrow, y’hear?”

Gabriel’s eyes dart away. Dean grabs him by the shoulders, and they’re back on him. “We’re gonna go home, and you’re gonna do what you always do. You’re gonna be there for the people you freed, and maybe you’ll even buy some more so you can keep doing what you do best.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows quirk in annoyance. His eyes are wet, and there are heavy bags under them, something Dean’s never seen on him before.

“You’re gonna help them. Like you did with Jess when you healed her legs, like you did with Charlie and Gilda when you allowed them to stay together. Like you did for Jordan when you took her in with her mom, and sent her to school, and let her be herself.” Dean shakes Gabriel a little. Gabriel lets him. “Alright? You had what it takes to be a good guy, long before I came barreling into your life. So you’re gonna keep going. Okay?”

It’s unnerving to see Gabriel be so passive, so lifeless. So quiet. Dean shakes him again. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Gabriel whispers in a sigh.

Dean lets go of him. “Good.”

The angel looks away, and Dean has a feeling Gabriel heard him, but he doesn’t really believe him. He doesn’t push, though. He’s too tired for a fight, and Gabriel looks too caught up in whatever he’s feeling to be receptive, anyway.

The bags under his eyes look heavier with the light of the fire simmering in front of his face. And he’s sweating, which Dean’s never seen him do, unless he wanted to let it happen.

“Your Grace,” Dean starts, licking his lips. He doesn’t know how to ask. “Is it okay?”

“I almost drained it out,” Gabriel says. His face is blank again. “So it might take a while to get powered up again. But it was worth it.”

 Okay. So he’s nearly human, then.

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

The look Gabriel throws him is a mix of anger and surprise, and Dean takes a step back, wincing.

“Don’t thank me,” Gabriel answers, swallowing his anger. “You wouldn’t have been in this situation if it wasn’t for me.”

And yeah, it’s true, so Dean nods, and they go back to looking at the fire. Jason’s corpse isn’t distinguishable from the pile of wood, now. He must’ve been burning for a while before Dean woke up.

“If you had died,” Gabriel pushes through his teeth, “I don’t know what I would’ve…”

His breath hitches. Dean huffs an embarrassed laugh, “Well, I didn’t. Please don’t start crying.”

He’s trying for humor, but Gabriel doesn’t laugh.

“Gabe, I’m fine,” Dean says. “Really. I didn’t die, okay? Now you need to get out of your funk and think about the others.”

Gabriel thinks about it, mouth twisting like he’s biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying.

“You’re right,” he finally lets out.

“We should go home.”

Gabriel hums. But still, he doesn’t move. He probably has something else on his mind, Dean figures, or maybe he doesn’t have the strength to move. God knows Dean doesn’t feel like walking back to the car right now.

“Home,” Gabriel repeats, thoughtful. “Funny you should call it that.”

_Here we go_. “What are you getting at?”

Dean’s tired of all of this. After everything that happened to him, he shouldn’t be the one reassuring anyone.

“Are you staying? Once we get there. Home,” Gabriel asks.

Dean sighs. He shifts on his feet, hands back in his pockets. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “To be honest, I just want to nap, right now. I can’t—I can’t have that discussion, here and now. Gabe—”

“I understand.”

And that’s the end of that. Gabriel stays tense the whole time they’re there, and nobody talks. Dean is too tired to. The others… well, maybe they’re scared. Maybe they’re actually sad about Jason.

Dean can’t really wrap his mind around the fact that the guy’s dead. All he can think about is how much he’s hurting all over, how thirsty he is, how he can’t believe it’s all over. He can still feel Alastair’s knife carving sigils into his skin, and he wonders if he’ll be able to have a peaceful night’s sleep ever again. Between Lucifer and Alastair, he has an almost inexhaustible stock of nightmares to keep him busy at night.

They all stay there until the sun dips low over the horizon, and the fire consumes a good part of the pyre.

Sam helps Dean to the car after that, even if Dean insists he doesn’t need him to, he’s still glad to feel his brother by his side. And the truth is, he’s in a lot of pain.

The little girl stays close to Sam, this whole time. She doesn’t say anything, just goes wherever Sam goes with a serious look on her face. Dean can barely see her face, or what she looks like. She’s covered in dry blood and mud.

“Where’d you find her,” he asks Sam, gruffly.

“They kept slaves in the warehouse,” Sam answers.

The look on his face tells Dean that whatever Sam found, it wasn’t pretty.

The little girl nods, and she looks up at Dean, very determined. “He saved me from the bad masters.”

“Yeah,” Dean can’t help but smile. “He’s awesome like that. What’s your name?”

She blinks, “Girl. But Master Castiel says it’s un—un-four-state.”

“I said it was an unfortunate name,” Castiel comes in.

The girl shrugs, but she looks like it’s bugging her, even though she doesn’t know what it means.

For the first time in a while, Dean feels a genuine smile tug at his lips, “It’s okay,” he tells her. “If you don’t like it we’ll find you another one.”

Sam shakes him gently, “She’s not a pet…”

“Never said she was! She can pick one.”

“I don’t know many names,” she pouts.

Cas is by her side, and he pats her head awkwardly, “I’ll help you.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean wakes up a few hours later. He took the edge of the pain with a handful of painkillers once they got rolling, and he crashed as if his brain decided it would be better for everyone if it just stopped working for a couple of hours. Seems like he slept the rest of the day into the night.  

The car, a huge, ugly family car, is mostly silent. Sam is driving, serious and quiet. On the passenger seat, Gabriel is sleeping, head resting on the window. Next to Dean are Meg and Charlie. Behind them, Bobby and Victor are dozing off, and, in the last seat on the left, is Cas, with the little girl in his lap. They’re both chatting quietly, the little girl still very solemn, and Cas answering her like he’s talking to an adult. It’s kinda cute, actually.

“Eve,” Cas is saying like a suggestion.

The girl thinks about it, and makes a face. “No.”

Cas frowns, “Why not?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You keep saying that,” Cas sighs.

“Sorry,” the girl mumbles.

Cas squeezes her arm, and tells her it’s okay.

She looks so young, sitting on Castiel’s lap like this, but there’s something very adult in her eyes. Sam told them she was born on a farm, and Dean can barely imagine what it must’ve been like. Being raised by demons, or shady humans, with no real parents. Being raised to be the perfect slave. She’s probably no older than eight or ten, but she already carries herself like she was made for duty.

What hurts the most is thinking about all the other kids still stuck on farms, all the people that lived through what she’s been through, and how Dean can do nothing about it.

Somehow, he’s glad they found her. It almost softens the blow of Jason’s death.

Quietly, so as to not disturb Meg who’s snoring lightly with her head on Charlie’s shoulder, he turns to the window. The road seems to be sliding under the car, like they’re flying over it. It reminds him of all the times on the road with his dad, when they were little, and he imagined a little animal, or thing, or fairy or whatever, trying to follow the car outside the window.

His eyes follow the edge of the road, avoiding the poles and trees and big rocks like his imaginary companion would’ve done when Dean was ten.

He has no frikkin’ clue where they are. Obviously, he trusts Sam, and it’s kind of relaxing to be able to sit back and not worry about anything for a moment.

But only for a moment. Because what Gabriel asked him still rings in his head, and it won’t leave him be. Will he stay, once they reach the mansion?

He would love to say that he doesn’t know, that he still has to think about it. But the truth is, he knows the answer. No. He won’t stay. And Gabriel loving him, or whatever it is the angel feels for him won’t change a thing.

Even Sam, if he chooses to stay with Jess, won’t change Dean’s mind. He needs to get away from all of this, and he needs to remember who he is, what he’s been put on this earth to do. He wants to get away from the slavery, and the gay sex, and the stillness of this life.

He wants to be a hunter again. He wants to be Dean again. Not that empty, whiny shadow of a guy that he became.

Just thinking about it, about leaving, he wants to cry. It straightens his resolve. He’s never been one to cry easily, and look at him now.

It weighs on him, and, suddenly, he’s exhausted just thinking about how he’s going to tell everyone. He can’t do it now, that’s for sure, so he settles back in his seat, and closes his eyes.

“Claire,” Castiel whispers.

There’s a long, long pause.

“Claire,” the little girl repeats, slowly, testing the name on her tongue.

And maybe she nods, maybe she smiles, because Castiel chuckles.

“Claire it is, then.” Then, with more affection than Dean’s ever heard from Cas, he adds, “Nice to meet you, Claire.”


	15. How Soon is Now?

# CHAPTER 15: How Soon is Now?

 

It’s weird, seeing the big gates of Gabriel’s property getting closer and closer. Dean’s dreamed about it. He wanted to be back so bad not even a few days ago, but now all he can feel as it’s finally happening is apprehension.

Now that he made up his mind about leaving, it seems like he’s going to his own funeral. Most of the people there will probably be angry, and he doesn’t even want to start thinking about his brother’s reaction.

Besides, wanting to leave doesn’t mean being eager to leave people behind. They’ve been his family for about a year, so saying goodbye is going to be difficult for him, too.

The little girl, Claire, is getting excited. She doesn’t show it, doesn’t fidget, as she’s too well-behaved for that, but she keeps craning her neck to see the road, turning to Cas from time to time to ask questions about the cities they’re passing through, and what Gabriel’s house looks like. Cas, always patient, answers everything. Even when it became very clear that she kept asking the same questions over and over as they were getting close.

Meg acts like she’s annoyed, but Dean thinks he knows her enough by now to detect a note of fondness in the way she rolls her eyes.

The heaviness that followed them around after they burned Jason’s body disappeared a day after they left the pyre. As if, once they got a good night’s sleep, they forgot about it. Not that they did, of course. Dean knows they haven’t, but after everything they’ve all been through, it gets real easy to leave the bad shit behind.

Sam and Gabriel have been driving non-stop, taking turns, and Gabriel is the one at the wheel this time, driving them through the gates of his estate.

It’s like the whole car breathes a collective sigh of relief as they do. Dean’s stomach twists in knots.

“Home, sweet Home,” Charlie says, perking up.

She’s probably very happy about seeing Gilda again. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and by the time Gabriel parks the car in front of the house, the others are all ready to jump out of it and run inside.

Everybody climbs out at the same time, even Cas, who, to his credit, is letting Claire pull him by the sleeve of his coat. Everybody, except Gabriel. And Dean.

But Dean’s not ready to be left alone with Gabriel, so before the angel can say anything as he eyes Dean through the rearview mirror, Dean opens his door, and steps out.

It feels good to be on his feet again. He stretches and makes it last. First, because he’s tired. And second, he’s pretty sure everyone is gonna want to sit down and talk, have a sort of cozy reunion where they’ll drink tea and talk about their feelings and he’s _so_ not up to it.

He doesn’t show it, though, following the others inside once Gabriel leaves the car. He’s met with an armful of Jordan, who jumps at him with a heartfelt, “I missed you _so much_!”

Obviously, she doesn’t know he’s barely managing to stay upright, courtesy of his broken rib. So he chuckles to hide a grunt of pain, and hugs her back, “Missed you, too, Kid.”

He tries to discreetly push her away, but Sam is on him before he can do anything, brows furrowed in worry.

“Jordan,” he starts.

She turns to him.

“Sammy, I’m fine,” Dean says before Sam can start scolding the little girl.

And now Jess, Gilda, Lisa and even Mrs. Herbert are staring at him, an air of worry about them.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he repeats.

“You should go lie down,” Sam insists.

And, what do you know, this is a great opening for an escape, exactly what Dean needed. “Yeah, you’re right,” he answers in a sigh.

Gabriel is coming in, the same mournful expression on his face he’s been sporting since they left Paradise, and Dean can’t stay in the same room as him. God! He can’t be with all these people right now!

“Can I use a spare room?” he asks no one in particular.

Mrs. Herbert sighs, “They’re all taken, I’m afraid. Unless Jordan gives you her room and bunks with the boys—”

“I don’t want to share with them,” Jordan protests, pouting. “Dean can share with me!”

“What did I say about interrupting adults?” Mrs. Herbert chastises her.

Dean forgot how much of a circus this place could become.

“It’s fine,” he says, hoping to diffuse Jordan who’s sporting the expression of a teenager about to launch into a rant, “I’ll use the slaves quarters.”

“We call them ‘the servants quarters’, now,” Gilda informs him.

He tries to smile. _God_ , he’s so tired!

“Sorry,” he amends. “I’ll be in the servants’ quarters, then.”

Jessica frowns, untangling from Sam’s arms to look at him, “You don’t want to eat something first?”

It’s like having them all around, crowding on him, is taking all the air from him. He needs to be alone. Quickly.

“I’m good, thanks,” is the last thing he utters, before he all but runs for his former bed in the slaves quarters.

Closing the door behind him and finding peace and quiet again is like taking a big breath of air after staying under water for too long.

The silence is deafening, and now that he doesn’t have anything to distract him from it, the pain in his rib comes bouncing back in his chest. There’s only so much social interaction he can bear for now, so he foregoes going to fetch some painkillers, and just lies down instead, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

It’s so quiet he can hear his own blood pumping in his ears, and he lets the sound and the dizziness from the blood loss and the lack of food lull him to an almost sleep.

He can’t deal with anything today. He’s not sure how long it’ll take until he’s functioning again. Right now, he feels like his body is too heavy, like he has too much control over his limbs, and, above everything, he feels so very, very lonely.

There’s no one he can share his feelings with in a thought. There’s no one to fight with without even having to open his mouth, no one to take the pain away from the inside, and no way of going back to the eerily perfect place in his mind where everything that happened was under his control.

There’s no denying he misses having Gabriel in him – and ain’t that ironic? – Even if he’s trying to convince himself that all he misses is the power, and that any angel would probably do the trick.

There’s no way to hide, even to himself, that it’s all bullshit, that he can’t stop thinking about the fact that Gabriel loves him.What is he supposed to do with that information?

Eventually, he’ll have to get out of this room, and face everyone, and face his own choices. But for now, or at least for a few hours, he can hide his head in the sand, and pretend it’s not important.

So he sleeps. He closes his eyes, and he lets his brain wander off, and he sleeps, because there’s nothing else he can do.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It turns out he actually needed to sleep. He needed it so much, in fact, that he didn’t wake up until he had at least twelve hours of sleep in him, which never happened before as far as he remembers.

Getting out of bed is a difficult task, but the dizziness is gone, at least, and the gloominess clouding his mind seems less important. All he feels now is a hunger so fierce it’s like his stomach is trying to eat itself.

Time to go back to the world.

When he reaches the kitchen, nobody’s there. Everything is very quiet, which is kinda weird for seven on a Monday morning, but what does Dean know? Maybe they changed their habits while Gabriel was away.

It’s better this way. He doesn’t want to talk about what happened, doesn’t want people fussing over his broken rib, doesn’t want to have to explain that Gabriel stabbed him in the heart to get to Alastair.

Yeah, okay. Dean’s had time to think about that, again and again, and even if he knows that at the time it was the best option, he’s angry about it. The guy fucking _stabbed_ him _in the fucking heart!_

What was he thinking? And he had the guts to say that he’d _try_ to revive Dean? Of fucking course he had to try! He owed it to Dean after everything! Fuck!

Okay…

Taking a big breath, he opens the fridge. Bending over still hurts, but it’s a little bit better now that he’s home.

Wait, scratch that. This place is not home, and even if it’s been home for a while, even if all the people living here feel like family, Dean will be gone soon anyway.

Where will he go? He doesn’t know. He’ll probably find a hunt somewhere, and start from there. Follow the monsters around the country, most likely. He might even cross to Canada. Why the Hell not?

One thing he’s sure of is he doesn’t want to hear about the Council anymore, about angels, and about demons, and slaves, and all that bullshit.

He’s so angry this morning that he beats on his eggs until all he’s left with is a scrambled yellowish mess that he dumps on a plate. It splatters with a dull, wet sounds, and he stares at it for a long while, wondering if he should try again.

In the end, he just sprinkles some salt and pepper on it, and eats it, because he’s in too foul a mood to try to cook anything else. He doesn’t have the patience to. He’s too hungry for that.

So he eats, and he lets himself be angry for once. Here, he’s free to feel and do whatever he likes. There’s no need to be careful, no demon to watch out for, no need to show his ass to please anyone.

What he wants for now is being alone, and do _something_ , so when he’s done with breakfast he heads for the barn to work on the Impala for a little while. Get his hands greasy, that’s what he needs to remember what he used to be.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there with the car, tinkering with her engine, fixing a little thing there, replacing another here, until his mind stops reeling and the anger slowly slips away.

The car doesn’t need that much work, anymore. He’s pretty sure she can run, now, and all there is left to the repairs are little things, aesthetics, mostly, that don’t really matter much. It matters to him, though. He wants to make her shine like she’s fresh out of the factory.

“Dean!”

Startled, Dean jumps, and bashes his head on the trunk lid. He spits a curse, giving his brother a stinky look.

“There you are,” Sam says, amused. “I’ve been looking for you for an hour.”

“Dude,” Dean straightens up from cleaning the trunk, pouting at his brother, “your Daddy never taught you that you don’t startle a guy when he’s spending some quality time with a lady?”

Sam scoffs, and rolls his eyes, and Dean’s suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of fondness.

“There’s something I need to discuss with you,” Sam answers.

Turning his back on him, Dean starts putting his tools away. “Can’t it wait?”

“No.”

Sam’s tone is firm, but without bite. It sounds important, so Dean decides he’s not going to tease his brother too much.

“Alright,” he sighs, turning around.

He almost brings a hand to his injured rib, but remembers himself at the last second. If Sam sees he’s hurting, he’s gonna scold him about doing work while being convalescent or something, and it’s gonna bring the anger back. Dean’s feeling a bit better, now, and he doesn’t want to be pissed again.

“I’m listening.”

It gets Sam going. He saunters next to Dean, as close as he can get. “I wanted to talk to you before I tell Cas and Gabriel. _If_ I tell Cas and Gabriel,” he says in a hushed tone. “I found something in the warehouse.”

“Okay…”

“I just don’t know if it’s something we should share…”

He means share with Castiel and Gabe, probably, and Dean can’t help quirking an eyebrow at him, “What did you find?” he asks, because Sam is a drama queen who likes to be prompted.

“You mean ‘who’,” Sam answers.

And yeah. Dean sighs again, “The suspense is killing me.”

The way Sam shifts on his feet reminds Dean of how he behaved when he was in middle school, when he did something he shouldn’t have done and was trying to justify himself to their Dad. His ‘dance of confidence’, as Dean privately calls it. Nothing good ever comes out of Sam’s mouth when he’s like this.

“Ruby,” he says.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but Dean barely notices. He’s too baffled.

“What was she doing there?”

“She…” Sam clears his throat. “I didn’t find her, exactly. I, uh, found her body.”

There’s something Dean should answer, probably. Say something stupid, like ‘She’s dead?’, or something meaner, maybe, like a laugh he’d pretend he can’t control. But the truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. All he can let out is a small, “Damn,” as he runs a hand on his mouth.

“Yeah,” Sam says, quietly, and Dean’s reminded that he’s just twenty-six, that he’s so very young and he found the body of a girl he once liked a lot, and who betrayed him. Dean thinks he can relate to the sense of confusion radiating from the small frown on Sam’s brow.

“Man, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sam snorts, with a sort of fake bravado, “The bitch had it coming!”

Dean shrugs, “Not sayin’ she didn’t. But still. You had something together. I know how it feels.”

Huffing, Sam scratches his nose. “Whatever. Good riddance. That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Fine. He doesn’t want to talk about his feelings, which is all good in Dean’s book, if a little out of character for Sam. But Dean’s not worried. Sam will come around, eventually.

“Okay, then shoot,” Dean says, stepping out of the shed where the Impala is parked, “I don’t have all day.”

“’Cause you have so many other things to do.”

“Sam.”

“Alright,” he huffs, digging in his pants’ pocket. Palm up, he presents something to Dean. A usb key? “She had this on her.”

“Uh,” Dean takes it, turns it around. “What’s on it?”

“I, ah,” Sam lets out in a sigh, “I don’t know.”

And that’s something else that brings the fire of anger burning inside Dean’s chest again. Any other day, he would’ve only been exasperated, at worst.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

Sam gets defensive, crossing his arms across his chest, “I mean I don’t know! I don’t have a computer, and if I ask Gabriel for his I’d have to tell him what for! That’s why I’m asking you first, you Jackass!”

Dean groans, “Okay, okay.”

Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he thinks about it.

It makes sense that Sam came to him. After all, he knows Cas and Gabriel better than his brother, but it kinds of pisses him off that he has to make a choice, now. Would it be a bad idea to share? Dean doesn’t really know what Sam found out about Ruby. He just knows what he heard from Meg and Charlie discussing it in the car on the way back. That Sam has been obsessed with this whole thing, so much so that he neglected Jess for a while, and that he thought Ruby could have something to help Dean, which she kind of did in the end.

Dean doesn’t know what it was, and he really doesn’t care. All he knows is it allowed Gabriel to find him before Alastair turned him into a fancy meatsuit.

There’s still the matter of Michael being on Heaven Lockdown, too. Dean wonders if it’s the right time to ask Gabriel for anything. All in all, there’s a good chance the Angel won’t ask why they need the computer, so might as well go for it. If they try to leave to find a cyber café, this might pull all the attention to them, and it’s the last thing Dean wants.

“I’ll ask Gabe for his laptop,” Dean finally says. “He’s too busy with his Council and everything to even pay attention to us, believe me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, “You think? What about Cas?”

Dean snorts, “Cas’s probably busy with Meg and the little girl, don’t worry.”

Sam seems perplexed, but nods, always trusting. Another weight on Dean’s shoulders.

“Let’s check it out,” Dean says, patting Sam’s shoulder.

God! Another riddle to solve. As if Dean still had the strength for it. He just hopes it won’t take too long…

-_-_-_-_-_-

“Why?”

It’s the first thing out of Gabriel’s mouth when Dean asks for his laptop.

Dean’s taken aback by the question, and he doesn’t answer, instead turning to Sam. Sam sighs, slouching in defeat before taking the USB key out of his pocket.

“I found this in the warehouse.”

Without even asking for permission, Gabriel takes it from him, and turns it in his hand. There are still bags under his eyes, and he seems old, now that Dean’s looking at him. There’s even the beginning of scruff growing on his cheeks.

“Where?”

Sam shrugs, uncomfortable, “On a cadaver.” Gabriel looks up at that. “There were rooms full of them. So I checked them out.”

Eyeing him, Gabriel quirks an eyebrow. He straightens up, “Something you’re not telling me, Sam?” he asks in his Master Voice.

Dean should probably say something at that, defend Sam’s honor or something, but he takes too long being startled, and Sam reacts before he does.

“Why do you care? I just need your computer!”

“And I’d like to know what you’re hiding,” Gabriel says in the same tone as Sam, “because it looks like it’s important and somehow you don’t want me to know!”

“Dean,” Sam exclaims, turning to him with a scandalized expression on his face.

And, really, Dean wants to be anywhere but here. “Maybe because that’s none of your business,” he sighs at Gabriel.

He gets that with Michael and everything else, Gabriel might be a little bit on edge, but that doesn’t mean Dean has to be gracious about anything. Especially when Gabriel is using his Master Voice on his brother.

“Maybe it is,” Gabriel counters, and he’s angry, too, “You found it in the warehouse where Alastair conducted his business, so it’s very possible it contains information that could be useful to the Council!”

Dean’s first reflex is to speak his mind, spit an angry ‘fuck the Council!’ at Gabe, but the expression on Sam’s face stops him.

He’s considering, which means Gabriel is not wrong. Sam gives Dean a questioning look, and Dean can’t say anything, because really, it’s not like he gives a shit.

So he raises his arms in mock defeat, and sits heavily on the sofa facing Gabriel’s desk, while Sam explains what he found, and how.

As soon as he hears Ruby’s name, Gabriel is a hundred percent focused. It’s like Dean doesn’t exist anymore. Gabriel brings his laptop out of thin air with a snap of his fingers, and he and Sam plug the key in and start digging through it.

It hurts a little, but it’s also a relief for Dean to be forgotten for a little while. He just watches, waiting for Sam to pull a face or smile, or ‘ah-ha!’ in triumph. It never happens.

After what feels like a solid hour, Sam leans back in his seat in front of the computer, and sighs. “That’s a lot of information.”

“Nothing useful,” Gabriel says, eyes roaming over the screen.

Sam gives him a look, bewildered, “Are you kidding? We can go after the whole network with this!”

Dean feels like it’s time for him to come into the conversation. “What network?”

Sam blinks at him, like he just remembered Dean’s there with them. “The demons,” he says. “The human trafficking, the hotels as cover, everything!”

Dean sees the way Sam’s eyes light up, sees how the wheels in his head are already turning. He’s gonna want to go after the demons. Dean’s heart skips a beat with the realization, because he knows Sam will want Dean to work with him on this, and Dean’s gonna have to nip that hope right in the bud.

“I guess it could be useful,” Gabriel concedes, “but you understand that I’m focused on Michael right now?”

“Sure,” Sam says, and there’s something fierce in his eyes, “but don’t you want to see these bastards being put away? Or put down?”

Dean agrees, privately, that it would be nice. But Sam is too eager, too gung-ho about everything, the energy of confidence and youth pushing him to act first, and think later. He’s a clever kid, more clever than anybody Dean knows, really, but he still needs people to sit him down and force him to look at the bigger picture before diving into anything.

Gabriel, in his state, wouldn’t be able to do jack shit to anybody. And Dean… even if he was willing, he’s not sure he’d have the mental strength. The bigger picture is kinda lame here. Dean hopes Sam can see reason on that front.

“I do,” Gabriel finally agrees, almost reluctantly, “but I want to set my brother free first. Then we’ll see what we can do about…” he waves at the computer, sighing wearily, “this.”

Sam is a bit irritated by that answer, but he’s reasonable enough that he only nods, even if the way he’s pursing his lips tells Dean he’s not going to let it drop that easily.

“You mind if I borrow your laptop?” he asks instead.

“Keep it,” Gabriel waves him off. “It’s yours.”

Sam’s eyes widen, searching Dean’s face. Dean shrugs. Sam just closes the laptop, standing and holding it close to his chest. “Okay. Uh, thanks.”

Giving Dean another look, he tilts his head on the side. ‘Are you coming?’ the gesture says. He’s already getting ahead of himself, Dean’s sure. He knows the kid. Sam probably wants to talk about Ruby, and the demons, and everything they could do.

So Dean just rolls his eyes, huffing, “We just got here, Sam. Go spend some time with your girlfriend, alright? I need a day off.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam answers, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nah, but you were thinking it pretty loudly.”

Sam shakes his head, and he mumbles a small, “Whatever,” as if he’s vexed, but his eyes drift toward Dean’s ribs for a second, and he finally moves to walk out. “I better not catch you working on the car again, then. Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean shoots back. It’s automatic. It feels like being normal again for a second.

There’s a genuine smile on Sam’s lips when he leaves, not quite closing the door behind him. He knows, or maybe he noticed, that being left alone with Gabriel in any enclosed space makes Dean nervous. Or maybe he just doesn’t trust Gabe not to pounce on Dean as soon as they’re in a room alone together.

It’s not that Dean feels threatened, not really. Especially not when Gabriel is leaning over his desk, with his hands on the mahogany as if he’d fall if he didn’t have something in front of him, with bags the size of Texas under his eyes. He’s anything but threatening.

Dean’s just… confused. Antsy. He misses Gabe, misses his Grace inside him, and he still feels like something less than the angel, like the slave he’s been, and played at being at the hotel. Being with Gabe, alone, reminds Dean that they’re not on equal footing, and they won’t be for a while, and Dean needs to be far, far away from the angel for a good long time. Far away from this house.

“You’re not staying,” Gabriel says, looking up, “are you?”

He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No,” Dean answers. Simple as that.

Gabriel nods, slowly, resigned. “Are you leaving for good?”

“I don’t—I don’t think so. I mean,” Dean straightens up, tries to play it cool, “Sam will prob’ly want to stay with Jess, research the demons…”

“Yeah.”

Gabriel shakes his head. It looks more like he’s stretching his neck rather than reacting. “You really have to? After everything…” his eyes find Dean’s, and Dean can’t look away. “You really want to go?”

“I really do.” Gabriel’s eyes start to get misty as Dean answers. “It has nothing to do with you, or, or anyone. I need to do a little soul-searching, is all.”

“And you can’t do that here.”

A beat passes. “You know I can’t.”

They’re both silent for a moment. Dean is so tired, so, so tired that for a while, he can’t move. Who knew that only a few words could take so much energy out of someone?

“When are you leaving?”

Dean’s taken aback by the question. Mostly because, for all his thoughts of leaving, he hasn’t made any plans about it. Gabriel hasn’t moved.

“Hm,” Dean rubs a hand over his mouth, “I guess I was gonna stay until this whole thing with Michael is over. ‘Cause you need me for it. Right?”

Gabriel sighs. Finally, he straightens up, but gravity seems to be pulling him down, and he all but falls in his chair instead, “Yes.”

It’s all he says. Dean’s getting antsy again. He needs to get out of there. “Alright,” he says, pushing away from the sofa. “Then I’ll be here.”

Humming, Gabriel closes his eyes. Dean’s cue to leave the room.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It’s like ever since they came back from the Hotel and from Vegas, the days blur into one another. Dean works on the car, because there’s nothing for him to do but wait. For the Council to summon them.

Ever since that day in Gabriel’s study, Dean lost track of time. Having nothing to do, it’s sapping all his energy. All he can do is mope, and think. The Impala is almost pristine, now, and he can’t pretend to be working on her forever.

He tries spending some time with the horses, away from the other human beings. The other slaves – former slaves -  started to understand that he needs some distance, and, so far, they’re all respecting it.

All but Jordan, of course. She keeps seeking him out, no matter how many times he pushes her away. It makes him sick to think of how she’ll react when he’ll announce he’s leaving.

But for now, he has to keep his mouth shut. Gabriel asked for an audience with the Council the very day Dean told him he was leaving. It’s been a week, and they didn’t hear a single word from the Heavenly Assholes. Cas says it’s normal. Time is different there, apparently, and the Maxi Douchebags in the Sky never really lived on earth. They don’t care for ‘social constructs’, as Cas put it.

So Dean waits, until he notices Gabriel is getting shifty. Shifty, and suspiciously chatty, all of a sudden.

“You really did an amazing job with her,” Gabriel tells Dean one morning, sauntering inside the Impala’s shed, where Dean is polishing the car for the third time this week.

She’s as shiny as she’ll ever be, but Dean needed to get away from Jordan, who’d been following him and silently staring for a couple days, now.

“Thanks,” he grunts without looking up.

Thing is, when Jordan wasn’t staring soulfully at Dean, it was Gabriel who was barging in on whatever he was doing, and it’s seriously starting to get on Dean’s nerves.

“What did you do to her exactly?” Gabriel goes on, running a finger on her hood, “I never thought she could run again, if I’m honest with you, but you did an amazing job!”

Dean throws his leather rag with more force than necessary, and faces the angel. “Alright, that’s enough! What’s happening?”

Gabriel’s been moody and silent for days, only to turn into Chatty McChatterson the last few days, all smiles and polite conversations, and he’s never sounded so fake ever since Dean first met him.

Gabriel hesitates for a second, his smile faltering and coming back, before he lets out a defeated sigh and the mask falls. “I just…” he starts, then he shrugs. “I heard back from the Council. They want to see us in two weeks.”

Dean frowns. It doesn’t justify all the creepy cheeriness, and besides, Gabriel is still eyeing him like he wants to say something else, so Dean nods.

“Okay,” he says, stepping away from the car. “Doesn’t explain why you’re acting like you’re starring in a freakin’ Broadway Musical, so what gives?”

The angel shakes his head, huffing a small laugh, “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Dean can’t hold back the small, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Well, stop trying, you’re bad at it.”

 

Gabriel echoes his smile, genuinely this time, before he sighs again, “It’s just that… once it’s done,” he says, leaning back against the hood of the car, “you’ll leave. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He carefully searches Dean’s eyes. “I wanted you to have good memories of me. Before you leave.”

He looks down at that. Dean would kill to know what’s going through his mind in this moment.

He can understand where Gabriel is coming from. After all, the angel’s been in Dean’s head, and he felt the bitterness that gathers in Dean every time he thinks about Gabriel. Dean would love nothing more than to have good memories of him not tainted by anything. It doesn’t seem possible, though, but he’s not about to tell Gabe that.

“You could have just said so,” he shrugs, “instead of acting like a creep.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel grimaces. “I’m just… my social interactions were limited to other angels. And Castiel. So…”

“I get it,” Dean huffs.

Gabriel nods. He’s more relaxed, now, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to leave any time soon. Dean doesn’t know what to say. It seems that they can’t avoid those awkward moments of silence whenever it’s just the two of them. It’s easy to wonder if there was anything other than lust between them, because they don’t seem to know how to fill the silence when they’re not naked and touching.

Maybe it’s just that they need time to find their footing in their new dynamic. After all, Dean’s still not used to being Gabriel’s equal. And he’s willing to bet Gabe’s not used to it either.

“So,” Gabriel clears his throat, “You’d be okay to… spend some time with me?”

Would he? Yeah, probably. When they’re not resenting each other, when there’s no sex involved, it can be pretty okay for them be together.

“Just to talk?” Dean asks, because he has to make sure.

“Just to talk,” Gabriel agrees.

There’s something hopeful in his eyes, and Dean can’t bear to kill it. Maybe he can do something good, for once. If he can get along with Gabe, then Gabe will be in a good mood, and the others will be good. And maybe, just maybe, if everybody’s good, then the fact that Dean’s leaving them will go over without too much grief.

“It’s a date, then,” Dean says.

Gabriel’s smile widens. He takes a step toward the exit, “I can come down tonight, maybe?”

“I, uh,” Dean stammers. “Speaking of that…” Yeah. The slave’s quarters. Dean likes it there, and he likes the mansion, he really does, but he’s still renting a place. He was waiting to know about their ‘appointment’ with the Council to go back there, start packing, maybe. Not that he has a lot of things, but still.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“I was gonna go crash at my place, you know,” Dean says. “I mean, I’m paying for it, I might as well use it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“So, uhm,” Gabriel clasps his hands behind his back, “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah.”

Dean can’t help wincing when Gabriel turns around, defeated. His mouth moves before he begins to think about it too hard.

“Or,” he adds, stopping the angel on his way out, “you could come by, you know.” Gabriel turns to him at that. _Shit_. He looks so hopeful. “Just… bring beer, and, uh, I’ll order pizza. And we can chat. Just chat.”

Gabriel nods. He seems pleasantly surprised. “Just chat. Tonight?”

Dean thinks about it. He thinks, and he draws a blank as he tries to find a reason why Gabriel couldn’t come to his place tonight.

He can’t find any.

“Yeah, okay.”

 _Okay_. He’s gonna spend an evening with Gabriel. Just the two of them.

What could go wrong?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Dean, come on,” Sam tries again, following Dean inside the kitchen as Dean is trying to make a sandwich, “we need to stick together, to prepare! We can’t just go over there, with no idea of what we’re gonna do or s—”

“Sam,” Dean interrupts, opening the fridge. “Do you even know what the angels are gonna do?” He looks up when it’s clear that somebody finished the mayo again. Where’s the fucking mustard? “They’re angels. They don’t want us there. You heard Alastair, the Council doesn’t give a shit about what the demons are doing.”

He goes back to his sad pieces of toast, spreading mustard haphazardly, and slaps a slice of ham between them.

“You don’t know that,” Sam answers, surly, “Demons lie!”

“In my experience, angels lie just as much.”

“Dean…”

“I need space,” Dean says, trying to make it sound final, but it’s a hard thing to do while munching on a sad mustard-and-ham sandwich. “I need to be alone for a while, and I need to think, okay?”

Looking at him with his pity-face, Sam sighs, “I get it, I really do—”

Dean scoffs, because, really, Sam doesn’t get it. At all.

“But we need you here,” Sam goes on. “I need you.”

Doesn’t Dean know it… Sam’s always needed him, even when he thought he didn’t. Especially when he thought he didn’t. And Dean’s always been happy to oblige, to be there for him, but now, after everything, all he wants is some time to himself. Just him, and beer, and bad TV.

“I know,” Dean says, “but it’s just two weeks. You’ll manage.”

_And maybe you’ll get used to me not being here._

Sam throws his arms in the air, “And how are you gonna get there, exactly? Don’t tell me Gabriel agreed to lend you one of his cars just so you could take off on your own!”

“Nah, of course not.” Dean puts the rest of his toast down. It’s almost time to go. He doesn’t feel like eating anymore. “He’s driving me.”

Sam does a double-take at that, “I’m sorry?”

Dean pretends he’s looking for something, because he feels his cheeks starting to heat up in anticipation of what he’s about to say, “Yeah. Says he wants us to spend some time together. Try to patch things up, you know?”

Sam doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t yell like Dean expected him to, so Dean dares looking up.

Sam’s eyes are wide with bewilderment, mouth frozen open in shock. Finally, a short, unhappy laugh escapes him. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” Dean frowns. Hell, he can see the anger coming, and really doesn’t want to fight with Sam, not now, not about this. “Please, don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” Sam spits back. “You are! You really want to ‘patch things up’ with him? After everything?”

“He saved my life.”

“Only because he drove the knife through your fucking heart himself!”

Dean closes his eyes. _Fuck_. He can’t do this. “Let it go. I’m not talking about it with you.” He tries to move as he speaks, to escape the kitchen as fast as he can, “I’m not doing this now.”

“Then when?” Sam asks, arms akimbo in an exasperated gesture. “You always do this! When are you going to talk to me, Dean?!”

“NEVER,” Dean spits, spinning around to face his brother. Because he knows, deep down, he hears it in Sam’s voice, that it’s not about Alastair. It’s not about the stabbing. It’s about everything else. “I don’t want to talk about it with you! Any of it! I can’t!”

Taken aback, Sam is speechless for a second, all traces of anger gone from his face. “Why not?”

“Because,” Dean rolls his eyes, “I can’t even talk about my hook-ups without you saying it’s gross, you really want to talk about how I was raped?” Sam winces at the word. “About what I did with Gabriel? Really?”

“It’s different,” Sam tries, his voice small.

“Yeah, it is. It’s worse. I don’t wanna talk about it with you,” Dean repeats. “I can’t. So stop asking.”

The wheels in Sam’s brain turn, and, with a sigh, he slumps in defeat, shaking his head. “It doesn’t explain why you want to spend time with Gabriel. Alone.”

Dean shrugs. “He’s the only one who gets it.”

Sam nods. He’s not convinced, the slight pout on his lips says he’s upset. Thankfully, he doesn’t get angry again. “You’re not scared he’ll try something?”

Dean sighs. He gets that Sam is scared for him, that he wants to protect him, but Dean’s tired of having to justify himself.

“Just trust me, okay?” he says, almost pleading. “I know you don’t trust him, but trust that I know what I’m doing, and that I know what’s best for me. Please.”

Sam pouts harder, but he only nods again in answer.

He can’t help but voice his concerns one last time, though. “I don’t like it.”

Dean just stares, because he knows his brother, he knows it’s not ill-will on Sam’s part, but also because he’s so tired, he needs a moment to gather himself. “I know,” he just answers.

They don’t say anything else – thank fuck! – And Dean waits a few seconds, trying to be considerate to Sam, trying to silently tell him not to worry. When Sam doesn’t try to protest anymore, doesn’t speak again, Dean knows he can leave. It’s a relief.

Now, he has things to do. In a few hours, he’ll be home. Finally.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It doesn’t feel like home.

The apartment is smaller than Dean remembered. It’s dark and grey, and being here doesn’t feel much different from being at Gabe’s.

With a sigh, Dean throws his duffel on the floor, and turns to Gabriel, who followed him inside without a word.

“Make yourself at home,” Dean says, gesturing vaguely toward the old battered couch.

Looking around, Gabriel does a nice job of not showing what he thinks of the place. Dean’s grateful for that, at least.

He takes the pack of beer from Gabriel’s hands, and goes to the fridge. The ride from the mansion has been awkward and silent. They need to drink. Or, at least, Dean needs to be somewhat drunk as soon as possible.

He takes two beers out of the pack, puts the rest away inside the empty fridge.

“So,” he clears his throat as he comes back to the couch, handing Gabriel a beer. The angel hasn’t moved. “Pizza?”

Gabriel hesitates. His stomach answers for him with a loud growl.

“Pizza it is,” Dean smirks.

“I… yes,” Gabriel huffs. “Sounds perfect.”

Dean doesn’t comment about the fact that Gabriel’s not supposed to be hungry, that his body shouldn’t need maintenance. He doesn’t ask if his Grace will come back, or if he’s human for good. Instead, Dean grabs a menu from the fridge, and hands it to Gabriel.

They order their pizzas, drinking their beer in silence until the food is delivered.

Two other beers and a pizza later, Dean is way more relaxed and they started chatting, finally. So far, they’ve talked about the difference in weather between Nevada and here, about Charlie and Gilda’s house, and about the Impala.

Dean feels he’s had enough liquid courage to talk about some real shit.

“So,” he says, sprawling a little bit more on his side of the couch.

Gabriel eyes his movement silently, and licks his lips. Which probably means he’s getting tipsy, too.

“I wanna ask you something,” Dean goes on, pretending he hasn’t noticed, “and I want you to be very honest with me.”

“Alright,” Gabriel answers, not without a hint of apprehension.

He has reasons to be a little scared. Because Dean’s not sure this conversation will go over well.

“Are you—” he licks his lips, too. Dammit. He needs to get his shit together. “What do you want out of… this?” He gestures between him and Gabriel, and the angel tilts his head on the side. “Are you trying to… get something out of me?”

Gabriel blinks and straightens up, making a poor job of looking clueless. “What do you mean?”

Dean might be well on his way to being more than tipsy, but even if he’s not there yet, he doesn’t have the patience to gently coax Gabriel out of his bullshit. “You know what I mean. What do you want from me?”

They stare at each other, and stare. And stare. Dean doesn’t want to look away. He won’t lose this silent fight. He refuses. Because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.

“Uh,” Gabriel lets out, before looking away. “I, uh, I don’t know what I want.” He scratches his chin. “I want us to be good. I want to spend time with you. I want…” he trails off, seemingly thinking.

“We won’t fuck if that’s what you were hoping for.”

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel shakes his head, “I don’t—” He huffs, exasperated. “Look. I’m gonna be honest, here,” he says, scooting closer to Dean, eyes finally coming up to Dean’s own, “Do I want us to have sex? Yes, I would love nothing more. Especially now that I’m low on Grace and a bit drunk, BUT,” he waves a finger in the air, “I know you don’t want that. And I promised myself I would never force you into anything ever again. So, now,” he picks up his beer, “I’ll be perfectly content to sit here with you, just chatting, and drinking. I can behave myself, I promise.”

It’s not that Dean doesn’t believe his sincerity, because he’s been inside the angel’s head, after all, and he knows Gabriel means it. He’s just not sure Gabriel can control his newly human instincts without a good dose of Grace.

“Are you saying beer makes you horny?”

Gabriel shrugs, “Alcohol in general, yes. But I’m not an animal, I can behave,” he repeats.

Dean chews on his lower lip, appraising him. Gabriel tracks the movement of his lips as he takes a sip of beer. _Behave, my ass_.

“Stop it.”

“What?” Gabriel blinks.

“Just—”

“I’m not doing anything,” Gabriel lies, very obviously. His eyes land on Dean’s mouth again.

“You’re—” Dean stops himself. With each protest, Gabriel leans closer, and this is starting to inch very close to dangerous territories. “Whatever.”

Tilting his head on the side, Gabriel smirks at him, mouth twisted in a slight pout.

“What?” Dean barks.

There’s something like annoyance tingling under his skin, but it’s still playful for now. God, it feels nice to have these sort of interactions with Gabriel. But now the smirk on Gabriel’s lips is turning into a fond smile, and Dean realizes a second before the angel opens his mouth what’s about to come out.

“Don’t.”

Gabriel blinks. “Why?” he asks, surprising Dean. He’s not pretending he doesn’t know what Dean’s talking about this time. “You know already.”

Dean looks away. “We agreed that whatever happened in my head stayed there.”

“Okay. Fair. I’m sorry.”

He’s not sorry at all. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “What are you trying to say, exactly?”

“Nothing much,” Gabriel sighs, finally leaning back on his side of the couch. “Just that I respect that you want to leave, but I just want to make sure you know I’ll be waiting for you to come back. Not because I think we can start something,” he adds hastily when Dean’s about to protest, “Just… know that you’ll always be welcome here. However long you need to be gone. I’ll be waiting.” He shrugs, takes another swig of beer, like he’s thinking. “I’ll be here. Even if it’s just as a friend.” His eyes trail upward as he searches for words. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to look at Dean for this. “I would like us to be friends, at least.”

He doesn’t stop contemplating the ceiling.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods, hoping Gabriel will catch the movement in his peripheral vision.

This evening is getting weirder by the minute, but he finds that he doesn’t mind too much. He’ll take weird over the angsty fuckery of the last two weeks.

“And I love you,” Gabriel blurts, catching him by surprise. _Dammit_. He finally looks down at Dean. “Sorry,” he adds sheepishly. “Just wanted to say it out loud. Just once. I won’t say it again.”

At a loss for word, Dean heaves a long sigh. “Dude…” Because he can’t answer that.

“I know,” Gabriel says, good-humoredly, both hands raising in the air, his beer held precariously between two fingers, “I’m being selfish. But it’s the last time, I promise!”

Dean huffs, “Okay.”

And he takes a swig of beer. Because, what else can he do? Gabriel shakes his head and mimics him, downing his bottle in two big swallows.

For lack of a better thing to do, Dean pushes away from the couch to get another beer.

Seeing Gabriel act like this, goofy drunk and almost carefree, is the strangest of things. Dean’s not used to it, and he wonders if it’s because the angel thinks he can win the Council over, or if it’s because of what happened in Dean’s head, or both. Maybe it’s because he’s happy to be here. Maybe it’s everything. To Dean, it just seems creepy. He doesn’t know how to react to it.

And he certainly doesn’t know how to react to the look Gabriel throws him as Dean hands him another drink.

“What?” he asks again.

There’s no fire in the tone of his voice. He’s more confused than anything else, because he can’t read the expression on Gabriel’s face.

“Nothin’,” Gabriel answers, blinking excessively. “I just… thought about something that should defin… definate—definitely not be said.”

Ah. But Dean’s curious, now. He sits carefully on his side of the couch, “What is it?”

“Nuh-thiiing,” Gabriel repeats, enunciating each syllable. “You said I was selfish. Well, this is me, thinking selfish things, and thinking on them, and deciding not to voice them out loud. Because _it_ would be selfish. And hurtful.”

Laughing despite himself – Drunk Gabriel is sorta funny – Dean shakes his head, “I’m giving you a freebie. Come on, spill.”

“Really, I’d rather not.”

“Come on! I’m curious now!”

“Why? I’m trying to be considerate!”

Dean barks another laugh, and Gabriel follows the movement of his head as he throws it back, eyes trailing on Dean’s throat with a smile.

“You wanna talk about the weather again?” Dean teases. He can’t help it.

Almost despite himself, he has the furious need inside him to understand what happens in Gabriel’s head at all times. He’s pretty sure that, as a side effect of the angel possession, he’ll always yearn for it. “C’mon.”

Hesitating, Gabriel chews on his lips, “You won’t like it.”

“I won’t get mad. Promise.”

Gabriel sighs, “I just wondered if you thought that, maybe, in the future, there could be some, ah… some possibility for us to have sex again.”

 _Yeah_. Dean figured it was something like that.

Shaking his head with a smile, Dean looks down. “Yeah. It woulda’ been pretty selfish of you to ask.”

The answering smile on Gabriel’s face is a bit shy, but he doesn’t protest, just accepts the remark with unrestrained eagerness, already waiting for what should come next.

Dean wants to let him stew a little bit, so he huffs a laugh, looks away, and takes a sip of beer like he’s moving on some other topic.

Gabriel waits a grand total of three seconds before exclaiming, “That’s it?”

Dean smirks, popping a piece of cold pizza crust into his mouth, “I said I’d let you ask. I never said I’d answer.”

Gabriel just blinks in surprise, while Dean chews smugly, before he huffs, shaking his head in disappointment. “Alright. It’s only fair,” he admits, and Dean lets out a small laugh.

This place might not feel like home, but without the threat of demons and the heavy weight of having to play a slave, this, this whole situation, is starting to feel somewhat normal.

Besides, Dean can’t deny his mind often drifts to the possibility of them. The memories of all the great sex they had. When Dean’s in a good mood, when the nightmares spared him for a night, he can forget the bad memories and the bitterness.

Right now, he feels good enough to indulge Gabriel.

“I don’t know,” he says. Gabriel raises his eyebrows at him. “About us. I don’t know what to tell you, because I just don’t know.”

Gabriel considers this, actually thinks about it, nodding slowly.

“I mean,” Dean keeps going, tongue loosened by the few beers he’s had, “You’ve always used sex as a reward,” he looks down, plucking a corner of the label on his bottle, “So it feels like I’d… I’d owe you for it.” He looks up again. Gabriel seems thoughtful. “You know?”

The angel nods again. And now, they’re stuck in silence, staring at each other, at everything but each other’s face.

“You think your time away would help with that?”

Dean shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not. I can’t be sure.” _Stop talking, dammit!_ “Honestly it’s the last thing I want to think about.” He forces his eyes to land on Gabriel’s face, somewhere in the vicinity of his forehead, so that it’ll look like he’s staring into his eyes, and he offers a small smile, “No offense.”

Gabriel acts like it’s no big deal, even though it’s written all over his face that it is. He answers with a smile of his own, “None taken. I understand.”

“Do you, really?”

“I think I do,” Gabriel says, carefully. “It can’t be real, because it’s never been real between us. It was something I allowed you to have in exchange for good behavior.”

Dean huffs a small, incredulous laugh. Angels can actually learn from their mistakes. Who knew? “Sums it up pretty good, yeah.”

Humming, Gabriel finally relaxes, and looks away.

Dean kinda feel a weight lifting from his shoulders, too. He didn’t notice it before, but there was still the fear that Gabriel would force him into something lurking in the back of his mind. Talking about it seemed to have calmed the fear down a little, pushing it away. For now.

He just hopes it won’t kill the little banter they had going. He kind of enjoys that.

He clears his throat, “I don’t mind the flirting, though,” he says, trying to play it cool. “If this is all we do, I mean.”

“Okay,” Gabriel answers, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Should I ask you if you come here often?”

Dean barks a laugh.

It loosens them up for the entire evening, and the awkwardness slowly fades away.

It gives Dean hope for the future. If things go on this way, if he plays his cards right, then there’s a chance his life can come back to normal.

Or as normal as can be, with an extra space carved into his life for a short, snarky Archangel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* 2 chapters to go, guys! Comments are my brain's food and I need some encouragement these days! Thanks for still being here, and reading me <3 see you next month!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under the url disizletzi :) Tell me what you thought of the chapter!


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